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THE HALLOW FAIR.
There's fouth o' braw Jockies and Jennies,
Comes weel buskit into the fair,
Wi' ribbons on their cockernonies,
And fouth o' fine flour in their hair.
O Maggie was ne'er sae weel busked,
Syne Willie was tied to his bride;
The poney was ne'er better whisked,
Wi' a cudgel that hang frae his side.
But Maggie was wondrous jealous,
To see Willie busked sae braw:
And Sawney he sat in the ale-house,
And hard at the liquor did ca'.
There was Geordie, that weel-lo'ed his lassie,
He took the pint stoup in his arms,
And hugg'd it, and said, "Troth they're saucie
That lo'es na a gude father's bairn.
There was Wattie, the muirland laddie,
Was mounted upon a grey cowte,
Wi' sword by his side, like a caddie,
To drive in the sheep and the nowte.
His doublet sae weel it did fit him,
It scarcely came down to mid-thigh,
Wi' hair pouther'd, hat, and a feather,
And housing at courpon and tee.
