5
Blythe, blythe, blythe was she,
Blythe was she butt and ben;
Weel she loo'd a Hawick ⟨gill⟩,
And leugh to see a tappit hen.
I loo'd the liquor weel enough,
But waes my heart my cash ran done,
Lang or I had quench’d my drouth,
And laith was I to pawn my shoon;
Blythe, &c.
When we had three times toom’d the stoup,
And the neist chappin new begun,
Wha started in to heeze our hope,
But Andro wi his cutty gun.
Blythe, &c.
The Carlin brought her kebbuck ben,
And girdle-cakes weel toasted brown,
Weel did the cannie kimmer ken,
It gart the swats gae glibber down.
Blythe, &c.
We ca'd the bicker aft about,
Till dawin we ne’er jeed our bum;
And ay the cleanest drinker out
Was Andro wi‘ his cutty gun.
Blythe, &c.
He did like onie mavis sing,
While she below his oxter sat;
