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For were ye on my saddle set,
An' were ye weel girt in my gear,
Gin the wind o' my a—e blaw ye out o' my c—t,
Ye'll never be reckoned a man o' weir.
With a hey, &c.
He placed his Jacob whare she did piss,
An' his b—ks whare the wind did blaw.
And he grippet her fast by the gushet o' her a—e,
An' he gae her c—t the common law.
With a hey, &c.
LOGAN WATER.
"An old song which appears in Herd's Collection. Referring to it, Burns writes to Thomson (April 7, 1793)—"I remember two ending lines of a verse in some of the old songs of 'Logan Water' (for I know a good many different ones) which I think pretty—
"'Now my dear lad maun face his faes,
Far, far frae me and Logan Braes.'"
The Logan burn, the Logan braes,
I helped a bonie lassie on wi' her claes;
First wi' her stockings an' syne wi' her shoon,
But she gied me the glaiks when a' was done.
But an I had ken'd what I ken now,
I wad a' bang'd her belly fu';
Her belly fu' and her apron up,
An' shew'd her the road to the Logan Kirk,
