Auld Peter M'Gowan.
[Francis Bennoch.—Tune, "Bung your eye," now better known by the title of "The brisk young lad," &c.—Here first printed.]
Auld Peter M'Gowan cam' down the craft,
An' rubb'd his han's, and fidg'd and laugh'd—
O little thocht he o' his wrinkled chaft
As he wanted me to lo'e.
He patted my brow, an' stroked my chin,
He roosed my e'en an' sleek white skin,
Syne fain wad kiss—but the laugh within
Cam' rattling out, I trew.
Oh, sirs! but he was a braw auld carle,
Wi' rings o' gowd, an' brooch o' pearl,
An' aye he spak' o' his frien' the earl,
An' thocht he was courting me.
He spak' o' his gear an' acres wide,
O' his bawsan'd yaud that I should ride,
Gin I wad be his bonnie wee bride,
Returning lo'e for lo'e;
That I a lady to kirk should gang—
Ha'e writ my virtues in a sang,
But I snapp'd my thumbs and I said, "Gae hang
Gin naething mair ye can do!"
Oh, sirs! but he look'd a silly auld man,
Nae langer he spak' o' his gear an' lan',
An' through the town like lichtnin' ran
The tale o' auld Peter's lo'e.
An' sae the auld carle speiled up the craft,
An' raved an' stamp'd like ane gane daft,
Till the tear trickled owre his burning chaft,
Sin' he couldna mak' me lo'e.
It's better for me to be single, I said,
Then as warming pan in an auld man's bed,
He will be cunning that gars me wed
Wi' ane that I canna lo'e.
Na! na! he maun be a braw young lad,
A canty lad—a spunky lad,
O he maun be a spirited lad
Wha thinks to win my lo'e.