Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/103

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Thou ance was i' the foremost rank,
A filly buirdly, steeve, and swank,
A set-weel-down, a shapely, shank,
As e'er tread yird;
And could hae flown out-owre a stank
Like ony bird.

It's now some nine-and-twenty year
Sin' thou was my Gude-father's Mare;
He gied me thee o' tocher clear,
And fifty mark;
Tho' it was sma', 'twas weel-won gear,
And thou was stark,

When first I gaed to woo my Jenny,
Ye then was trottin wi' your minnie;
Tho' ye was trickie, slee, and funny,
Ye ne'er was donsie,
But hamely tawie, quiet, and cannie,
And unco sonsie.

That day ye pranc'd wi' pruske pride;
When ye bure hame my bonny Bride
And sweet and gracefu' she did ride,
Wi' maiden fair!
Kyle-Stewart I cou'd hae bragged wide,
For sio a pair,

Tho' now ye dow but hoyte and hobble,
And wintle like a saumont cobble,
That day ye was a jinker noble,
For heels and win',
And ran them till they a' did wauble
Far, far behin'.