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And twine it weel my bonnie dow,
And twine it weel the plaiden;
The lassie lost her silken snood,
In pn’ing o’ the bracken.
beadle of the parish.
I’m a very knowing prig,
With my laced coat and wig,
Though they say I am surly and bearish
Sure I look a mighty man,
When I flourish my rattan,
To fright the little boys,
Who in church-time make a noise,
Because I’m beadle of the Parish.
Here and there,—every where?
Hollo now,— What’s the row?
Fine to do,—Who are you?
Why, zounds, I’m the Beadle of the Parish.
Whenever I come nigh,
How I make the beggars fly,
My looks are so angry and scarish,
Like other city folks,
I do business in the stocks.
And whate’er is lost l tell,
For you know I bear the bell,
Because I’m the Beadle of the Parish,
