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Jouk. Here, bonny laſs, your humble ſlave,
Preſents you with the things you crave,
The riven Will and Bonnets twa,
Which maks the third worth nought ava.
Our power giv'n up, now I demand
Your promis'd love, and eke your hand.
Bard. Roſe ſmil'd to ſee the lad outwitted,
And bonnets to the flames committed;
Immediately an awfu' ſound,
As ane wad thought, raiſe frae the ground:
And ſyne appear'd a ſtalwart Ghaiſt,
Whaſe ſtern and angry looks amaiſt
Unhool'd their fauls,———ſhaking they ſaw
Him frae the fire the Bonnets draw;
Then came to Jouk, and wi' twa drugs,
Encreas'd the length of baith his lugs,
And ſaid,———
Ghaiſt. ——— Be a' thy days an aſs,
And hackney to this cunning Laſs:
But for theſe Bonnets I'll preſerve them,
For bairns unborn that will deſerve them.
Bard. With that he vaniſh'd frae their een,
And left poor Jouk wi' breeks not clean.
He ſhakes, while Roſie rants and capers,
And ca's the viſion nought but vapours:
Rubs o'er his cheeks and gab wi' ream,
Till he believes't to be a dream:
Syne to the cloſet leads the way,
To ſoup him up with uſquebae.
Roſie. Now, bonny lad, ye may be free,
To handle ought pertains to me;
And ere the ſun, though he be dry,
Has driven down the weſtlin ſky,
To