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JOCK AN' HIS MOTHER.
Air—“ Jackson's cog i the morning."
Now, mother, since a' our fine lasses ye saw Yestreen at the wedding, sae trig an' sae braw, Say, isna my Peggy the flower o' them a',
Our dance an' our party adorning ? Her form is sae fair, an' her features sae fine, Her cheek like the lily anointit wi' wine, The beam o' her bonny blue ee does outshine
The starn that appears i' the morning."
“ Away, ye poor booby! your skeel is but sma', Gin ye marry Peggy ye'll ruin us a'; She lives like a lady, an' dresses as braw,
But how will she rise i' the morning ?
She'll lie in her bed till eleven, while ye
Dear Jock, tak a thought an’ some warning."
O, mother, sic beauty I canna forego, I've sworn I will have her, come weel or come woe, An' that wad be perjury black as a crow
To leave her an' think of another.”
“ An' if you should wed her, your prospects are fine, In meal-pocks and rags you will instantly shine; Gae break your mad vow, an' the sin shall be mine
O pity yoursell an' your mother !"
“ I'm sure my dear Peggy is lovely as May,
“ Sure, Jock, he wad tak it for scorning ?”
He said he wad gie me a horse an' a cow,
An' gie Maggy wark i' the morning."
“Your Peggy is bonny, I weel maun allow, An' really 'tis dangerous breakin' a vow; Then tak her—my blessing on Peggy an' you
Shall tarry baith e'ening an' morning.” So Jock an' his Peggy in wedlock were bound, The bridal was merry, the music did sound, They went to their bed, while the glass it gaed round,
An' a' wished them joy i' the morning.
ON ETTRICK CLEAR.
On Ettrick clear there blooms a brier,
An' mony a bonny budding shaw, But Peggy's grown the fairest flower
The braes o' Ettrick ever saw. Her cheek is like the woodland rose,
Her ee the violet set wi' dew; The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
Had I as muckle gowd an' gear
As I could lift unto my knee,
Should ever be a bride to me.
O she's bonny, frank, an' free:
Could ever beam like Peggy's ee.
Had I her hame at my wee house,
That stands aneath yon mountain green, To help me wi' the kie an' yowes,
An' meet me on the brae at e'en,
O sae happy we wad be;
But Peggy's dearer far to me.
But I may sigh an' stand abigh,
An' greet till I tine baith my een; For Peggy's dorty, dink, an’ shy,
An' disna mind my love a preen.
Sad an' sorry may I be;
-But I'll be unco sweer to dee.