THAT huzzy, young Nan, 's a tall feyne luikin'
Her cheeks are queyte rwosy as onie can see,
A farm she can brag on, an' plenty ov brass,
An' sweethearts to saunter wid ay fain is she;
Yet nae gud she'll dui-the truth yen sud tell-
Hawf crazy, ay wicked, pruives daily her preyde;
I'd raider some beggar-lass follow, mey sel':
If Nan were worth millions she'd ne'er be mey breyde.
Just think what a huzzy, when talkin' she'll sweer,
Ay glory in nonsense, an' laugh leyke a fuil-
For I've known the bonny yen monie a year-
What sweerin' an' leein' she'd neame i' the schuil.
If owre this weyl county we daily cud gang,
Yen seldom cud lass meet whea dis what Nan wad,
She glories in weyldness what ay may show wrang;
If some mud just hear they'd think she was mad.
There's Job i' the lonnin, an' Tom i' the hill,
An' Dick i' the corner, and Sam i' the green,
An' Raff i' the yell-house, an' Jack i' the mill,
An' Wull i' the wood, that's now lost beath his een,
They're kissin' an' codlin' an' laughin' wi' Nan,
Then russlin' an' fratchin' an' feghtin', sec wark-
She'd raider be wi' them than a decen' young man—
When it's stormy they'll saunter for hours after dark.
The best man amang us oft gives her adveyce— Shaff! he mud as weel talk for hours to the muin, Or gi'e a reeght lesson to the weyl rats an' meyce; Tho' rich, young, an' bonny, nae gud she's yet duin, Now daily oft drinkin', the thurd teyme wi' bairn, Sae what mun her thowts be when deeth gi'es a caw. When young lads an' lasses true gudness wad larn, The joys o' leyfe they'll share what fuils never know.
SHAFF, Nell, thou ne'er nwotishes nin but girt
Jwohnny,
His money, an' houses, riches, yacres, or lan';
I've yen that's as peer but as guid, aye, as onie,
Nae udder wi' thousands sal e'er buy my han'.
The lad I leyke best, nobbet last month he sowt me;
He leeves owre the watter atop o' yen hill;
His gudness, his sense, an' his modesty bowt me :-
For ever I'll leyke him, peer gud-naturet Will.
He's silent when monie are bwoastin' ov greatness ;
He meyns nowt ov riches, but leykes a just preyde;
In aw that he dis, what! he shows nowt but neatness,
An' wishes ilk neet to swat down by my seyde;
He'll sing a luive sang, tell how lasses are cheatet ;
He hates aw young chaps that fain wad dui ill :-
I'll ho'd thee a weager if here he was seatet,
Thy heart wad be gi'en to peer gud-naturet Will.
Girt Jwohnny, that courts thee, 's led monie to ruin,
O tek mey adveyce! luive a chap that dis gud,-
He follows the lasses, still weyldness pursuin':
O that he was punisht as aw sec leyke sud!
If seen in a cwoach an ov millions ay braggin',
Sud he follow me, faith, I'd laugh at him still;
Ther's yen I'd far rader see reyde in a waggin :-
This han' sal be gi'en to peer gud-naturet Will.
When reavin 'bout Jwohnny oft magpies 'll cross thee,
As if to say, Nell, hear a lesson frae me,
Just scworn the rich chap that to ruin wad toss thee, An' try for a lad that ay fain gud to be.
Bad luck to aw chaps that sec weyldness delight in, As leads monie lasses to sad mis'ry still;
But gud luck to the lad that sec fellows keep slightin' :
Teane's theyne, tudder's meyne-the peer gud-naturet Will.
AIR Fanny's feace when I cud view,
Where aw mey happiness I gat,
My cares seemt gean, my wants seemt few,
An' preyde I ay laught at ;
Wi' her the hours past sweet away,
We crackt wi' merry glee;
Nae lark, that welcom'd onie day,
Was hawf sae blithe an' free.
E'en now her smeyle ov luive I see,
When she furst wan my heart;
Her rwosy cheek an' breet blue e'e
Meade me in luive furst start:
Now seeghin' thro' our fav'rite grove,
Mey bwosom's wrapt in care:
I think o' nowt but her I luive,
Far frae mey Fanny fair.
A wretch enslav'd on some rough coast,
Than one mair plishure tnows;
That joys ov luive by me are lost,
Ilk day, ilk hour, ay shows.
O that fair whop cud ease mey grief,
An' bring her I luive best,
I'd ne'er forgit that sweet relief,-
It meakes true lovers blest.
TRUE friendship leyfe's deleyte still pruives,
Nor ever flings mankeyn' to woe;
The gud, whea still their brethren luives,
What leads to virtue ay will show;
If wealth we share, or low in care,
Let thowts ay lead to what pruives fair;
Howe'er to want we're fworc'd to bend,
Let's wish for joy to each true friend.
True friendship, glory, fame, oft gi'es,
When restless mortals fwok relieve;
Fause friendship, that sae oft yen sees,
Owre earth will daily millions grieve.
True friendship number's ne'er can meet,
Whea duty dui to aw maks roun';
What's shown for ever to the great,
To wordy peer fwok's seldom shown.
True friendship, when fwok throw aseyde, What then are riches, preyde, or power?Vain gewgaws! Mekin sec their gueyde, May sair repent lang ere deeth's hour.
True friendship that can ne'er cause streyfe,
But e'en keep frae distress and pain,
An' show what bliss it gie's thro' leyfe,
In every bwosom still sud reign.
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