My spouse, Nancy.
[Written by Burns for Thomson's collection, to the tune of "My jo Janet."]
Husband, husband, cease your strife,
Nor longer idly rave, sir;
Though I am your wedded wife,
Yet I'm not your slave, sir.
One of two must still obey,
Nancie, Nancie;
Is it man or woman, say,
My spouse Nancie?
If 'tis still the lordly word,
Service and obedience;
I'll desert my sovereign lord,
And so good-bye allegiance!
Sad will I be so bereft,
Nancie, Nancie;
Yet I'll try to make a shift,
My spouse Nancie.
My poor heart then break it must,
My last hour I'm near it;
When you lay me in the dust,
Think — think how you will bear it.
I will hope and trust in Heaven,
Nancie, Nancie,
Strength to bear it will be given,
My spouse Nancie.
Well, sir, from the silent dead,
Still I'll try to daunt you,
Ever round your midnight bed
Horrid spirites shall haunt you.
I'll wed another like my dear
Nancie, Nancie;
Then all hell will fly for fear,
My spouse Nancie!