Page:Old maid and widow, or, The widow the best wife.pdf/8

Wi’ unco bangs to shaw her mettle,
Right feared that she wad miss her ettle.
Up Watty comes— Now for her market—
Quoth he, ‘Troth Kate! ye’re brawlie sarkit!’
‘I’m weel eneugh— an’ gude be thankit!
‘I neither want for bed nor blanket.’
In short, ae clatter brought anither,
Till Watty’s heart begude to swither;
Neist gloamin’, he ga’ed yont to see her,
Sat by her hip, an’ fyket wi’ her;
Kate took him on the cheek a tirl,
Poor Watty’s heart— he fand it dirl;
He grippet Kate, ca’d her his jewel—
She kent her time— an’ was na cruel;
A lad like him! wha could affront him?
In twa three ouks she lay ayont him.
A frugal wife’s a precious gift,
An’ Watty’s rib had wondrous thrift:
Her weel plait much an’ buskit hair,
An’ artfu’ smile were seen nae mair,
She had na time— for gatherin’ gear.
This pensy lass mith now be seen,
In duds, an’ dirt, frae morn to e’en;
Despisin’ cauld, or wind, or weet,
She skelpit on wi’ naked feet;