When on that boy the kevil fell
To stay the fearsome noise,
“Gae in,” they cried, “whate’er betide,
Thou prince of button-boys!”
Syne, he has taen a supple cane
To swinge that dog sae fat:
The doggie yowled, the doggie howled
The louder aye for that.
Syne, he has taen a mutton-bane—
The doggie ceased his noise,
And followed doon the kitchen stair
That prince of button-boys!
Then sadly spake that ladye fair,
Wi’ a frown upon her brow:
“O dearer to me is my sma’ doggie
Than a dozen sic’ as thou!
“Nae use, nae use for sighs and tears:
Nae use at all to fret:
Sin’ ye’ve bided sae well for thirty years,
Ye may bide a wee langer yet!”
Sadly, sadly he crossed the floor
And tirlëd at the pin:
Sadly went he through the door
Where sadly he cam’ in.
“O gin I had a popinjay
To fly abune my head,
To tell me what I ought to say,
I had by this been wed.
“O gin I find anither ladye,”
He said wi’ sighs and tears,
“I wot my coortin’ sall not be
Anither thirty years