NOW to you ye dry Wooers,
Old Beaus, and no doers,
So doughty, so gouty,
So useless and toothless,
Your blindless, cold kindness,
Has nothing of Man;
Still doating, or gloating,
Still stumbling, or fumbling,
Still hawking, still baulking,
You flash in the Pan:
Unfit like old Brooms,
For sweeping our Rooms,
You’re sunk and you’re shrunk,
Then repent and look to’t;
In vain you’re so upish, in vain you’re so upish.
You’re down ev’ry foot.
A Scotch Song, Set by Mr. R. Brown.
[[Listen]]
JOCKEY loves his Moggy dearly,
He gang’d with her to Perth Fair;
There we Sung and Pip’d together,
And when done, then down I’d lay her:
I so pull’d her, and so lull’d her,
Both o’erwhelm’d with muckle Joy;
Mog. kiss’d Jockey, Jockey Moggy,
From long Night to break of Day.
I told Mog. ’twas muckle pleasing,
Moggey cry’d she’d do again such;
I reply’d I’d glad gang with thee,
But ’twould wast my muckle Coyn much:
She lamented, I relented,
Both wish’d Bodies might increase;
Then we’d gang next Year together,
And my Pipe shall never cease.