Sae merrily's the banes we'll pyke,
An' sun oursells about the dyke;
An' at our leisure when ye like
We'll—whistle owre the lave o't.
I am, &c.
But bless me wi' your heav'n o' charms,
And while I kittle[12] hair on thairms,
Hunger, cauld, an' a' sic harms
May whistle owre the lave o't.
I am, &c.
RECITATIVO.
Her charms had struck a sturdy Caird[13],
As weel as poor Gutscraper;
He taks the fiddler by the beard,
An' draws a roosty rapier—
He swoor by a' was swearing worth,
To speet him like a pliver,
Unless he would from that time forth
Relinquish her for ever:
Wi' ghastly e'e, poor tweedle-dee,
Upon his hunkers[14] bended,
An' pray'd for grace wi' ruefu' face,
An' so the quarrel ended;
But tho' his little heart did grieve,
When round the tinker prest her,
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve,
When thus the Caird address'd her
AIR.
Tune—Clout the Caudron.
I.
My bonie lass I work in brass,
A tinkler is my station;
I've travell'd round all Christian ground
In this my occupation;
I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd
In many a noble squadron;
But vain they search'd, when off I march'd
To go an' clout the caudron.
I've ta'en the gold, &c.