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Here country John, in bannet blue,
And eke his sunday's claes on,
And sappy kisses lay on :
« Be o' your gab mair sparin';" He'll tak the hint, and criesh her loof Wi' what will buy her fairin', ;
To chow that day.
Here chapmen billies tak their stand,
And shaw their bonny wallies; Wow! but they lie fu' gleg aff hand.
To trick the silly fallows :: Heh, sirs ! what cairds and tinklers come,
An' ne'er-do-weel horse-coupers, An' spac-wives, fenzying to be dumb, Wi a' siclike landloupers,
To thrive that day!
Here Sawney cries, frae Aberdeen,
“ Come ye to me fa need ; « The brawest shanks that e'er were seen
“ I'll sell ye cheap an' gude : “ I wyt they are as protty hose
“ As come frae weyr or leem: « Here, tak a rug, and shaw's your pose ; Forseeth, my ain's but teem
And light this day."
Ye wives, as ye gang through the fair,
O mak your bargains hooly ! O’a'thir wylie louns beware,
Or, fegs ! they will ye spulzie. For, fairnyear, Meg Thamson got,
Frae thir mischievous villains, A scaw'd bit o' a penny note, That lost a score o' shilling
To her that day..
The dinlin drums alarm our cars ;
The serjeant screechs fu' loud, “A' gentlemen and volunteers
" That wish your country gude, “ Come here to me, and I sall gie
“ Twa guineas and a crown; « A bowl o' punch, that, like the sea, • Will soom a lang dragoon
• Wi' ease this day.”
Without, the cuissars prance an' nicker,
An' owre the lea-rig scud ;
And rant and roar like wud.
Wi' wives an' wee-anes gabblin, That ane might trow they were a-kin. To a' the tongues at Babylon,
Confus'd that day.
Whan Phoebus ligs in Thetis' lap,..
Auld Reikie gies them shelter, Whare cadgily they kiss the cap,
An' ca't round helter-skelter.
Great cause he had to rue it;
Fu' sair that night.
“ Ohon! (quo' he), I'd rather be.
“ By sword or bagnet stickit, . “ Than hae my crown or body wi'
“ Sic deadly weapons nickit.”. Wi' that he gat anither straik,
Mair weighty than before, That gart his feckless body, aik, An' spew the reekin gore
Fu'red that night.
He pechin on the cawsey lay,
O'kicks and cuffs weel sair’d; A Highland aith the sergeant gae,
“ She maun pe see our guard." Out spak the weirlike corporal,
“ Bring in ta drucken sot :" They trail'd him ben, and by my saul, He paid his drucken groat
For that neist day.
Gude fouk, as ye come frae the fair,
Bide yont frae this black squad;
Allow'd to wear cockade.
Or tusk o’ Russian bear,
Your death that day.