[7]
Wow, Nanſy, what needs a' this din?
do l not ken this Sandy?
I’m ſure the chief of a' his kin
was Rab' the beggar randy:
His minnie Meg upo' her back
bare baith him and his billy;
Will ye compare a naſty pack,
to me your winſome Willie?
My Gutcher left a good braid ſword,
though it be auld and ruſty.
Yet ye may tak it on my word,
it is baith true and truſty;
And if I can but get it draws,
which will be right uneaſy,
I ſhall lay baith my lugs in pawn,
that he ſtiall get a heezy.
Then Nanſy turn’d her round about,
and ſaid, Did Sandy hear ye,
Ye wadna miſs to get a clout,
I ken he difna fear ye.
Sae ha’d your tongue, and ſay nae mair,
ſet ſome where elſe your fancy.
For as lang as Sandy’s to the fore,
ye never ſhall get Nanſy.
❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ § ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈ ❇ ❈
THE POWER OF LOVE.
AH! Gods, what can be ſtranger,
ſure none but Love, or you.
