Page:Old maid and widow, or, The widow the best wife.pdf/5

I’d sooner scorn the Muses train,
Than gi’e a sakeless bosom pain;
An’ maist of a’, wad I regard
The cummers, dear to ilka bard.
Love’s dimplin’ smile an’ meltin’, glance.
Ha’e gart my heart wi’ rapture dance;
An’ lang as life that heart sall warm,
Sae lang, I trust, sall woman charm.
Had a’ the sex like pith to move,
As first to win— then fix our love,
The Muse had blythely spread her wing,
And joyous, touched a safter string.
Thae facts premised— lest patience fail,
Good Mr. Preses, hear my tale.
In Rashy-glen there lived a chiel,
Ane Watty Gibb, (I kent him weel,)
A clean-houghed, weel-made, forthy callan,
Wi’ plenty laughin’ round his dwallin’;
Twa sleekit naigs, four gude milk kye,
Wi’ calves an’ stirks, an’ cash forby;
His lease was lang, wi’ canny rent;
Thus, set fu’ cothie, an’ content,
He built a ha’ of stane an’ lime,
Which few cou’d equal at the time;
The couples made of o’er-sea timmer,
Had a’ been seasoned thro’ the simmer;