Page:Old maid and widow, or, The widow the best wife.pdf/12

Their parish kirk was Buckie-den,
Twa lang Scots miles frae Rashy-glen;
But ilka Sunday, foul, or fair,
Winter, and Simmer, Kate was there:
Whan she came hame, she set to wark,
Wi’ mony a grave, an’ sage remark;
Her tongue untiring, tald them a’
Not what she heard, but what she saw:
For neither widow, wife, nor maid,
E’er changed a gown, or coft a plaid,
But Kate could a’ her wardrobe tell,
An’ kend the count, as weel’s hersel’.
Upo’ the road, baith gawn, an’ comin’,
She glegly tented man an’ woman;
Tald wha took Mary o’er the stile,
An’ how she saw the giglet smile;
How widow Bell on Geordie blinked;
An’ Susie to the miller winked;
While Matty’s dochters, light, an’ glaiket,
In muslin duds, were maistly naked.
Then she wad grieve, that silly pride
Should lead fowk’s hearts sae far aside,
Or shaw themselves sae scant o’ grace,
As cast their airs in sic a place:
Syne winding up her application,
By weel-timed, warm vituperation;