 | Poems and Songs |  |
The Dorty Bairn.
Preserve me! Lizzie Allan,
Ha'e ye no your breakfast taen?
Sic a face ye hae wi' greetin'!
What's the matter wi' ye, wean?
Ha'e ye no your breakfast taen?
Sic a face ye hae wi' greetin'!
What's the matter wi' ye, wean?
Ay! a flee ran owre your parritch?
Fanny snowkit at your bread?
My certie! Leddie Lizzie,
Ye're a dainty dame indeed!
Fanny snowkit at your bread?
My certie! Leddie Lizzie,
Ye're a dainty dame indeed!
But, the parritch can be keepit,
And the bread can be laid by;
An', if hunger proves nae kitchen,
Then the tawse we'll hae to try.
And the bread can be laid by;
An', if hunger proves nae kitchen,
Then the tawse we'll hae to try.
109
Ay! a bairn may weel be saucy
When there's plenty and to spare;
But there's mony a better lassie
Wad be blythe to see sic fare.
When there's plenty and to spare;
But there's mony a better lassie
Wad be blythe to see sic fare.
Oh! waes me! but it's vexin',
Yet it's needless tae misca';
See, there's the glass! What think ye?
D'ye ken yoursel' ava?
Yet it's needless tae misca';
See, there's the glass! What think ye?
D'ye ken yoursel' ava?
There's the een I praised this mornin'
For the happy licht within,
Noo as red's the fire wi' rubbin'—
Baith as bleart's the cloudit moon.
For the happy licht within,
Noo as red's the fire wi' rubbin'—
Baith as bleart's the cloudit moon.
There's the pina' that an hour sin'
Was as white's the driven snaw,
Noo as draigelt as the dish-clout—
D'ye ken yoursel' ava?
Was as white's the driven snaw,
Noo as draigelt as the dish-clout—
D'ye ken yoursel' ava?
An' your hands that were like lilies—
Saw ye e'er sic hauns as thae?
An' your cheeks! their verra roses
Ye'll hae rubbit aff some day!
Saw ye e'er sic hauns as thae?
An' your cheeks! their verra roses
Ye'll hae rubbit aff some day!
110
Oh Lizzie, Lizzie Allan!
Ye maun mend, or ye shall learn
That it's mair o' cuffs than cuddlin'
That awaits a dorty bairn.
Ye maun mend, or ye shall learn
That it's mair o' cuffs than cuddlin'
That awaits a dorty bairn.
Ye've a kiss tae gi'e me, hae ye?
Ye've a kiss as weel as him?
Oh thae e'en! there's nae resistin',
When it's sorrow makes them dim.
Ye've a kiss as weel as him?
Oh thae e'en! there's nae resistin',
When it's sorrow makes them dim.
Ay, ye'll get anither pina',
An' I'll kame your curls sae broon;
An' ye'll be my ain wee Lizzie,
An' the best in a' the toon.
An' I'll kame your curls sae broon;
An' ye'll be my ain wee Lizzie,
An' the best in a' the toon.
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