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i4 THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF |
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While you wear, on purpose, a bonnet so deep, That I can't at your sweet purty face get a peep:— Oh, lave off that bonnet, Or else I'll lave on it The loss of my wandherin' sowl! Och hone ! weirasthru ! Och hone ! like an owl, Day is night, dear, to me, without you !
Och hone ! don't provoke me to do it; For there's girls by the score That love me—and more, And you'd look very quare if some morning you'd
meet My weddin' all marchin' in pride down the sthreet; Throth, you'd open your eyes, And you'd die with surprise, To think 'twasn't you was come to it! And faith Katty Naile, And her cow, I go bail, Would jump if I'd say, " Katty Naile, name the day." And though you're fair and fresh as a morning in
May, While she's short and dark like a cowld winter's day, Yet if you don't repent " Before Easther, when Lent Is over I'll marry for spite ! Och hone ! weirasthru ! And when I die for you, My ghost will haunt you every night. |
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