Complete Songs Of Robert Burns - online book

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[No. 251.]
Her charms had struck a sturdy caird
As weel as poor gut-scraper; He taks the fiddler by the beard,
An' draws a roosty rapier-He swoor by a' was swearing worth . To speet him like a pliver, Unless he would from that time forth Relinquish her for ever.
Wi' ghastly e'e, poor Tweedle dee
Upon his hunkers bended, An' pray'd for grace wi1 ruefu' face,
An' so the quarrel ended. But tho' his little heart did grieve
When round the tinkler prest her, He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve
When thus the caird address'd her:—
Tune : Clout the caudron.
[Scots Musical Museum, 1787, No. 23.]
My bonie lass, I work in brass,
A tinkler is my station ; I've travell'd round all Christian ground
In this my occupation; I've ta'en the gold, an' been enroll'd
In many a noble squadron : But vain they search'd, when off I march'd
To go an' clout the caudron.
I've ta'en the gold, &c.