(Sir Alexander Boswell)
I met four chaps yon birks amang,
Wi' hinging lugs and faces lang;
I speered at neebour Bauldy Strang.
"Wha's they I see?"
Quo' he: "Ilk cream-faced pawky chiel,
Thocht he was cunning as the deil,
And here he cam' awa' to steal
The first a captain to his trade,
Wi' skull ill-lined, but back weel clad,
March'd round the barn, and by the shed,
And pappit on his knee:
Quo' he: "My goddess, nymph and queen,
Your beauty's dazzled baith my een!"
But deil a beauty he had seen
But Jennie's Bawbee.
A lawyer neist wi' blatherin' gab,
Wha speeches wove like ony wab;
In ilk ane's corn aye took a dab,
And a' for a fee.
A Norland laird neist trotted up,
Wi' bawsand naig and siller whup;
He thought to build his fortunes up
Wi' Jennie's Bawbee.
Drest up just like a knave o' clubs
A thing cam' neist (but life has rubs),
Foul were the roads, and fu' the dubs,
And jaupit a' was he.
He danced up squintin' thro* a glass,
And grinned: "I' faith, a bonnie lass!"
He thought to win wi' front o' brass,
She bade the Laird gae kame his wig,
The Sodger no to strut sae big,
The Lawyer no to be a prig,
The fool, he cried: "Te-hee!
I kenn'd that I could never fail!"
But she preen'd the dish-clout to his tail,
And soused him wi' the water pail,
And kept her bawbee.
Sir Alexander Boswell (1775-1822)