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A collection of scots poems on several occasions

by the late Mr. Alexander Pennecuik, Gent. And Others
 

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A Poem on the Sign of the Mermaid.

Geordie.
Wha's dainty bairn are ye, my winsome dear,
With apple cheeks, and wame like ony pear?

Jamie.
May be 'tis nae good manners for to speir.

Geo.
And bony bubbies, wi' your nut brown hair,
And a' your sides, and a' your shoulders bare:
War ye some aulder ye'd be worth a pelt.

Jam.
Ah! Geordie man, she's fish beneath the belt:
She'll nae get leave to live, she's e'en sae frail,
The lads will suck her lips and eat her tail.

Geo.
Whish't billy, haith she'll put us in the guard,
'Tis no the first of twenty's been sae sair'd;
She wad na take sic treatment frae a laird.
I find she's ta'en the pet, she will na speak,
She's blushing now, glowr on her rosy cheek.

Jam.
Mistress, I beg your pardon wi' bare head,
We country folk are no like gentles bred.

Geo.
She's e'en the greatest ferly e'er I saw,
The d---l a leg has she, and we ha' twa;
I wonder how she gangs unto the kirk,
Or how she keeps her feet when it grows mirk!

Jam.
Feet! fiend a fit she has, but twa sweet hands
Whiter than curds, and tight like willy-wands;
They need nae feet that's carried in sedans;
Geordie, how she does pish I canna learn,
I'm sure she'll be an unco cleanly bairn.


48

Geo.
Daft gouk, great folks bairns is nae like ours,
Kakying their coats and clarting a' the doors:
They spit their tea and croudie at their mouth,
That gars them be of sic a feckless growth.
How she'll be got with bairn I marvel more,
Her belly's big enough, but wants a door:
Perhaps the dunnawassels hae nae bungs,
But like the doves they gender by the tongues.

Jam.
If they spew weans at their mouth like croudie,
I think they need na' fash to fetch the houdie.

Geo.
Ha ha, boy, I can tell you e'er I pish,
The thing that makes the lass's a---e a' fish;
Her minny and her dade have Papists been,
And got the fleshy part on Fasten's e'en;
And when the beef and a' the brose was spent,
They fed on fish and got the lass in lent.

Jam.
As I maun answer, Geordie, ye ding a',
Ye should na been a herd, but man o'law,
Farewel bra' bairn, I hae nae mair to say,
But when a' flesh rise at the judgment day,
Only the half of you will flie away.