7
When he look'd out at the window he saw his daughter's face,
With his hat in his hand, he made a great phrase.
Keep on your hat farmer, don’t let it fa,
For it sets not the peacock to bow to the craw,
It’s hold your tongue Sawney, and do not taunt me.
For my daughter’s not worthy your bride for to be.
Now he held his bridle reins, till he came down.
And then he conveyed him to a fine room;
With the finest of spirits, they drank a fine toast,
And the son and the father drank both in one glass.
THE CROOK AND PLAID.
If lassies loe the laddies, they surely should confess.
For every lassie has a lad she loes aboon the rest,
He’s dearer to her bosom, whatever be his trade,
And through life I’ll love the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid.
He’s aye true to his lover, aye true to me.
He climbs the mountains early, his fleecy flocks to view,
He spiers the little lavrocks, spring out frae among the dew,
His faithful little doggie, so frolicksome and glad,
Wander’s forward, with the laddie that wears the Crook and Plaid.
