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Score out the blame, and shun the shame,
and without more debate o't,
Tak hame your wain, mak Jenny fain,
the leel and leesome gate o't.
THE MALTMAN.
THE maltman comes on Munday,
be craves wonder fair,
Cries "Dame come gi'e me my filler,
"or may ye sall ne’er get mair,"
I took into into the pantry.
and gave him some cock-broo,
Syne paid him upon a gantree,
as hostler-wives should do.
When maltmen come for filler,
and gaugers wi' wands o’er soon,
Wives, tak them a’ down to the cellar,
and clear them as I ha’e done.
This bewith when cunzie is scanty,
will keep them frae making din;
The knack I learn’d frae an auld aunty,
the snackest o' a’ my kin.
The maltman is right cunning,
but I can be as slee,
An’ he may crack o’ his winning,
whan he clears fcores wi’ me;
For come whan he likes, I'm ready,
but if frae hame I be,
Let him wait on our kind Lady,
she’ll answer a bill for me.
Glasgow, Printed by J & M. Robertson Saltmarket, 1802.
