Nae comfort but a hearty can,
When I think on John Highlandman.
Sing hey, etc.
[As she finishes, the First Beggar, leaving his doxy, goes up to her and sings.]
Let me ryke up to dight that tear,
And go wi’ me and be my dear,
An’ then your every care and fear
May whistle owre the lave o’t.
Chorus
I am a fiddler to my trade,