21
I steer up my temper-string gayly,
an' while a bit verse will rant;
Young women you ken maun be wyllie,
that mak up that unco bit want.
For I'm ripe &c.
an' while a bit verse will rant;
Young women you ken maun be wyllie,
that mak up that unco bit want.
For I'm ripe &c.
Am thinkin' sometimes, when he's rising,
to mak a bit step to the door,
An' raise a wee crack that's entising,
perhaps that he ken na afore.
An' O if the laddie wad tak me,
an' raise a bit canty wee rant;
There's naething mair pleasure wad gie me,
for that's just my unco bit want.
For I'm ripe &c.
to mak a bit step to the door,
An' raise a wee crack that's entising,
perhaps that he ken na afore.
An' O if the laddie wad tak me,
an' raise a bit canty wee rant;
There's naething mair pleasure wad gie me,
for that's just my unco bit want.
For I'm ripe &c.
Young ANDREW's REPLY.
Sweet Lass, I approve o' your plan,
l think that you're wise for to knit,
An' buckle yoursel' to a man;
for kissing it's now you are fit.
What tho' you've silks for to dress you,
an' plenty o' baith roast an' raw,
Yet you want a bit man for to kiss you,
an' keep your cauld back frae the war.
l think that you're wise for to knit,
An' buckle yoursel' to a man;
for kissing it's now you are fit.
What tho' you've silks for to dress you,
an' plenty o' baith roast an' raw,
Yet you want a bit man for to kiss you,
an' keep your cauld back frae the war.
