(6)
Young men they are glorious creatures,
it’s a pity so false they were ay,
They’re fickle like weather in Winter,
they’ll heat and they’ll cool in a day.
What need I tell’t over and over,
what I in my bosom do find,
They’ll wheedle and cox till you’re ruin’d,
and then all your pleasures do end.
What need I tell’t, &c.
†††††††††††††††††††††††††
BESS THE GAWKIE.
Blythe young Jean to Bess did say,
Will ye gang to yon funny brae,
Where flocks do feed, and herds do stray;
And sport a while wi’ Jamie?
Ah na lass I’ll no gang there,
N(illegible text)r about Jamie tak nae care,
He flighted me, and that’s no fair,
For he’s ta’en up wi’ Maggie.
For hark, and I will tell you, lass,
Did I not see young Jamie pass,
Wi’ meikle blythness in his face.
Out o’er the muir to Maggie.
