Her eldeft dochter faid right bauld,
Fy, mother, mind that now ye're auld,
And if ye with a younker wald,
He'll waste away your fnishing.
The auld wife, &c.
The youngest dochter ga'e a fhout,
O mother dear! your teeth's a' out,
Befides ha't blind, you have the gout,
Your mill can had nae fnishing.
The auld wife, &c.
Ye lied, ye limmers, cries auld mump;
For I hae baith a tooth and stump,
And will nae langer live in dump,
By wanting of my fnishing.
Thole ye, fays Peg, that pauky flut
Mother, if you can crack a nut,
Then we will a' confent to it,
That you fhall have a fnishing.
The auld wife, &c.
The auld ane did agree to that,
And they a piftol-bullet gat ;
She powerfully began to crack,,
To win herfell a faifhing,
The auld wife, &c.
Note, Snishing, in its literal meaning, is fnuff made of tobacco; but, in this fong, it means fometimes conteniment, a husband, love, money, &c.
Braw fport it was to fee her chow't,
And 'tween her gums fae fqueez and row't,
While frae her jaws the flaver flow'd,
And ay the curs❜'d poor ftumpy..
The auld wife, &c.
At laft fhe gae a defperate squeez,
Which brak the lang tooth by the neez,
And fyne poor ftumpy was at ease,
But the tint hopes of fnishing.
The auld wife, &c.
She of the tafk began to tire,
And frae her dochters did retire,
Syne lean'd her down ayont the fire,
And died for lack of fnishing.
The auld wife, &c.
Ye auld wives, notice well this truth,,
Affoon as ye're paft mark of mouth,
Ne'er do what's only fit for youth,
And leave aff thoughts of fnishing:
Elfe, like this wife beyont the fire,
Ye'r bairns against you will confpire ;;
Nor will ye get, unless ye hire,
A young man with your fnishing..
I'll never love thee more.
Y dear and only love, I pray,,
That little world of thee,
Be govern'd by no other fway,
But pureft monarchy:
But if no faithlefs action ftain
Thy love and conftant word,
I'll make thee famous by my pen,
And glorious by my fword.
I'll ferve thee in fuch noble ways,
As ne'er was known before
I'll deck and crown thy head with bays,
And love thee more and more.
Pon a fair morning for foft recreation,
I heard a fair lady was making her moan,
With fighing and fobbing, and fad lamentation,
Saying, My blackbird most royal is flown.
My thoughts they deceive me,
Reflections do grieve me,
And I am o'erburden'd with fad mifery;
Yet, if death fhould blind me,
As true love inclines me,
My blackbird I'll feck out, where-ever he be.
Once into fair England my blackbird did flourish,
He was the chief flower that in it did spring;
Prime ladies of honour his perfon did nourish,
Because he was the true fon of a king :
But fince that falfe fortune,
Which still is uncertain,
Has caufed this parting between him and me,
His name I'll advance
In Spain and in France,
And feek out my blackbird, where-ever he be...
The birds of the foreft all met together,
The turtle has chofen to dwell with the dove;
And I am refolv'd in foul or fair weather,
Once in the fpring to feek out my love.
He's all my heart's treasure,
My joy and my pleafure;
And juftly (my love) my heart follows thee,
Who art conftant and kind,
And courageous of mind,
All blifs on my blackbird, where-ever he be.
In England my blackbird and I were together,
Where he was ftill noble and gen'rous of heart;
Ah! wo to the time that firft he went thither,
Alas! he was forc'd from thence to depart,
In Scotland he's deem'd,
And highly efteem'd,
In England he feemeth a stranger to be;
Yet his fame fhall remain,
In France and in Spain;
All blifs to my blackbird, where-ever he be.
What if the fowler my blackbird has taken,
Then fighing and fobbing will be all my tune;
But if he is fafe, I'll not be forfaken,
And hope yet to fee him in May or in June.
For him through the fire,
Through mud and through mire,
I'll go; for I love him to fuch a degree,
Who is conftant and kind,
Deferving all bleffings, where-ever he be.
It is not the occan can fright me with danger,
Nor though, like a pilgrim, I wander forlorn,
I may meet with friendship of one is a stranger,
More than of one that in Britain is born.
I pray heaven fo fpacious,
To Britain be gracious,
Tho' fome there be odious to both him and me,
Yet joy and renown,
And laurels fhall crown
My blackbird with honour, where ever he be.
N winter when the rain rain'd cauld,
And frost and fnaw on ilka hill,
And Bereas, with his blafts fae bald,
Was threat'ning a' our ky to kill:
Then Bell, my wife, wha loves na ftrife,
She faid to me right haftily,
Get up, goodman, fave Cromy's life,
And tak your auld cloak about ye.
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