Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/123

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Swith in some beggar's haffet squattle;
There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle,
Wi' ither kindred, jumpin cattle,
In shoals and nations,
Whar horn nor bane ne'er dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.

Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight,
Below the fatt'rills snug and tight;
Na, faith ye yet, ye'll no be right
Till ye've got on it,
The vera tapmost, tow'ring height
O' Miss's bonnet.

My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out,
As plump and grey as ony grosset;
O for sone rank mercurial rozet,
Or fell red smeddum,
I'd gie you sic a hearty doze oʻt.
Wad dress your droddum.

I wadna been surpris'd to spy
You on an auld wife's flannen toy,
Or aiblins some bit duddie boy,
On's wyliecoat;
But Miss's fine Lunardi, fie!
How dare you do't?

O Jenny, dinna toss your head,
And set your beauties a' abread,
Ye little ken what cursed speed
The blastie's makin,
Thae winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice takin.