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GO LOOK, GO LOOK.
BY the light of the moon t’other ev’ning I ſtray’d,
a mile by the ſide of the brook;
When Roger ſtept up with, how do you, far maid?
I peeviſhly anſwer’d, go look, go look.
I peeviſhly anſwer’d, go look.
Nay, nay, he reply’d, why angry with me?
I know you meet Robin the cook;
It may be ye now are a waiting for he,
in a paſſion I anſwer’d, go look, go look,
In a passion I anſwer’d, go look.
Quoth he, you love muſic, I’ve heard them to ſay;
and out he an inſtrument took——
D’ye think said he, Bob or I better can play?
I anſwer’d him fellow, go look, go look,
I anſwer’d him fellow, go look.
But reſolute grown he seiz’d fast o’ my hand,
and forc’d me to ſit down in the nook;
And ſweet, ſaid he, tell me what tune you command,
you puppy, I anſwer’d, go look, go look.
You puppy, I anſwer’d go look.
But ſoon, with his flute, he ſo raviſh’d my heart,
that I never dreamt more of the cook;
And thoſe who imagine I’ve told but a part,
for the reſt of the ſtory may look, may look.
For the reſt of the ſtory may look.
Glaſgow, Printed by J. & M. Robertſon,
Saltmarket, 1799.
