( 8 )
When Phœbus staits from Thetis lap,
- the hills with rays adorning.
White is her neck, fast is her hand,
- her waist and feet's su' genty;
With ilka grace she can command
- her lips-O wow! they're dainty.
And Mary's locks they're like a craw,
- her eyes like diamonds glances!
She's ay so clean redd up, and bra',
- she kills whene'er she, dances.
Blyth was a kid, with wit at will,
- she blooming, tight, and tall is;
And guides her airs sae gracefu still,
- O Jove, she's like thy Pallas.
Dear Bessy Bell, and Mary Gray,
- ye unco fair oppress us;
Our fancies jee between you twa,
- ye are sic bonny lasses.
Wae's me! for baith I canno' get;
- to ane by law we're stinted;
Then I'll draw cuts and tak my fate,
- and be with ane contented.
FINIS.
