A, U, A, my bonny bairn,
A, U, A, upon my airm,
A, U, A—thou suin may learn
To say dada se canny:
Aw wish thy daddy may be weel,
He's lang i' coming frae the keel;
Tho' his black fyesce be like the de'il,
Aw like a kiss frae Johnny.
A, U, A, &c.,
Thou really hast thy daddy's chin,
Thou art like him leg and wing,
And aw wi' pleasure can thee sing,
Since thou belangs my Johnny.
Johnny is a clever lad—
Last neet he fuddled aw he had,
This morn he wasn't very bad—
He luik'd as blithe as ony.
Tho' thou's the first, thou's not the last;
Aw mean to hae my bairns fast—
And when this happy time is past,
Aw still will love my Johnny;
For his hair is brown, and see is thine,
Your eyes are grey, and se are mine,
Thy nose is taper'd off se fine—
Thou's like thy daddy Johnny.
Thy canny doup is fat and round,
And, like thy dad, thou's plump and sound,
Thou's worth to me a thousand pound,
Thou's a' together bonny.
When daddy's drunk, he'll tyek a knife,
And threaten sair to tyek my life:
Whe wad not be a keelman's wife,
To have a man like Johnny.
But yonder's daddy coming now,
He links the best amang the crew;
They're a' gaun to the Barley-mow,
My canny, good-like Johnny.
Come, let's go get the bacon fried,
And let us make a clean fireside,
Then on his knee he will thee ride,
When he comes hyem to mammy.
BOLD JACK OF THE JOURNAL.
[Written on reading Mr. Larkin's "Letter to the Protestants of Newcastle," on the subject of "Maria Monk's Awful Disclosures.">[
Bold Jack of the Journal—
From regions infernal!—
The Catholic Clergy
Would hang or would burn all!
This insolent Tory
Is now in his glory,
And currency gives
To Miss Monk's lying story.