The weel-tocher’d Lass
[From Ramsay's Tea-Table Miscellany. Tune, "Kirk wad let me be."]
I was once a weel-tocher'd lass,
My mither left dollars to me,
But now I'm brought to a poor pass,
My step-dame has gart them flee.
My father, he's aften frae hame,
And she plays the deil with his gear;
She neither has lawtith nor shame,
And keeps the haill house in a steer.
She's barmy-faced, thriftless, and bauld,
And gars me aft fret and repine;
While hungry, half-naked, and cauld,
I see her destroy what's mine.
But soon I might hope a revenge,
And soon of my sorrows be free;
My poortith to plenty wad change,
If she were hung up on a tree.
Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo'd
This bonnie lass tenderlie,
I'll tak' thee, sweet May, in thy snood,
Gif thou wilt gae hame with me.
'Tis only yoursel' that I want;
Your kindness is better to me
Than a' that your stepmother, scant
Of grace, now has taken frae thee.
I'm but a young farmer, it's true
And ye are the sprout of a laird;
But I have milk-cattle enow,
And ruth of good rucks in my yard.
Ye shall have naething to fash ye,
Sax servants shall jouk to thee:
Then kilt up thy coats my lassie,
And gae thy ways hame with me.
The maiden her reason employ'd,
Not thinking the offer amiss,
Consented, while Ringan, o'erjoy'd,
Received her with mony a kiss.
And now she sits blythely singin',
And joking her drunken stepdame,
Delighted with her dear Ringan,
That makes her goodwife at hame.