Page:Beauties of Burn's poems.pdf/35

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For roads were clad frae side to side,
 Wi' mony a weary body,
In droves that day.

Here farmers gash, in riding graith,
 Gaed hodden by their cotters;
There, swankies young, in braw braid claith,
 Are springin' o'er the gutters:
The lasses, skelpin' barefoot, thrang,
 In silks and scarlet glitter;
Wi' sweet-milk cheese in mony a whang,
 And farls bak'd wi' butter,
Fu' crump that day.

When by the plate we set our nose,
 Weel heaped up wi' ha'pence,
A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws,
 And we maun draw our tippence.
Then in we go to see the show:
 On ev'ry side they're gatherin';
Some carrying dales, some chairs and stools,
 And some are busy blethrin'
Right loud that day.

Here stands a shed to fend the showers,
 And screen our countra gentry,
There Racer Jess, and twa-three wh—s,
 Are blinkin' at the entry.
Here sits a raw of tittlin jades,
 Wi' heaving breast and bare neck;
And there a batch o' Wabster lads,
 Blackguardin frae K———ck
For fun this day.

Here some are thinking on their sins,
 And some upon their claes;
Ane curses feet that fyl'd his shins
 Anither sighs and prays: