The Black-bird/De'il tak the Wars
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De’il tak the Wars.
De’il tak the wars that hurry'd Billy from me, Who to love me just had sworn;They made him Captain sure to undo me: Woe's me! he’ll ne’er return.A thousand loons abroad will fight him, He from thousands ne’er will run;Day and night I did invite him To stay at home from sword and gun.I us’d alluring graces, With muckle kind embraces,Now sighing, then crying, my tears did fall; And had he my soft arms Preferr’d to war’s alarms,By love grown mad, my heart being glad, I fear in my fit I had granted all.
I wash’d and patch'd, to make me provoking, Snares, they told me, would catch the men;And on my head a huge comode sat poking, Which made me shew as tall again;For a new gown too I paid muckle money, Which with golden flow’rs did shine!My love well might think me gay and bonny, No Scots lass was e’er so fine. My petticoat I spotted, Fringe too with thread I knotted,Lace-shoes, silken hose, garters over knee; But, oh! the fatal thought, To Billy these are nought,Who rode to towns, and rifled with Dragoons, When he, silly loon, might plunder’d me.