Mary’s twa lovers.
[Written by Robert Lochore, about 1802, to the tune of "Bessie Bell and Mary Gray." This and the other song by the same author, given in p. 206, have only before appeared in a small local miscellany, entitled "The Temple of Apollo."]
Dear aunty, I've been lang your care,
Your counsels guid ha'e blest me;
Now in a kittle case ance mair
Wi' your advice assist me:
Twa lovers frequent on me wait.
An' baith I frankly speak wi';
Sae I'm put in a puzzlin' strait
Whilk o' the twa to cleek wi'.
There's sonsy James, wha wears a wig,
A widower fresh and canty;
Though turn'd o' sixty, gaes fu' trig,
He's rich, and rowes in plenty.
Tam's twenty-five, hauds James's pleug
A lad deserves regardin';
He's clever, decent, sober too,
But he's no worth ae fardin'.
Auld James, 'tis true, I downa see
But's cash will answer a' things;
To be a lady pleases me,
And buskit be wi' braw things.
Tam I esteem, like him there's few.
His gait and looks entice me;
But, aunty, I'll now trust in you.
And fix as ye advise me.
Then aunt, wha spun, laid down her roke,
An' thus reply't to Mary:
Unequal matches in a yoke
Draw thrawart an' camstrarie.
Since gentle James ye dinna like,
Wi' 's gear ha'e nae connexion;
Tam's like yoursel', the bargain strike,
Grup to him wi' affection.