The Scots musical museum : humbly dedicated to the Catch Club instituted at Edinr June 1771 by James Johnson . Theyll rive a my mealpocks, and do me meikle dool for the doing ot, are ye the poor well gang nae mair, fee. Then fhe took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa,The d _ 1 gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and well gang nae mair, fee. T took ye for fome_gentleman, at leaft the Laird of Brodie;O dool for the doing oti are ye the poor bodie. • ,And well gang nae mair, fee. He took the laffie in his arms, and gae her kiffes three,And four-and-twenty hunder mar
The Scots musical museum : humbly dedicated to the Catch Club instituted at Edinr June 1771 by James Johnson . Theyll rive a my mealpocks, and do me meikle dool for the doing ot, are ye the poor well gang nae mair, fee. Then fhe took up the mealpocks and flang them oer the wa,The d _ 1 gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenhead and well gang nae mair, fee. T took ye for fome_gentleman, at leaft the Laird of Brodie;O dool for the doing oti are ye the poor bodie. • ,And well gang nae mair, fee. He took the laffie in his arms, and gae her kiffes three,And four-and-twenty hunder mark to pay the well gang nae mair, fee. He took a horn frae his fide, and blew baith loud and fhrill,And four-and-twenty belted knights came fkipping oer the well gang nae mair, fee. And he took out his little knife, loot a his duddies he was the braweft gentleman that was amang them well gang nae mair, fee. The beggar was a cliver loon, and he lap fhoulder height,O ay for ficken quarters as I gat well gang nae mair,fee. 216 .1 loe na a Laddie but b paid him the debt yef_treen. fei n My mithers ay makin a phraze,That Im lucky young to be wed;But kmgere Qie countit my days,Ome (he was brought to bed:Sae mithjer, juft fettle your tongue,An dinna be flytin fae bauld;For we can do the thing when were young,That we canna do weel when were auld. Salne Tone. Let ithers brag weel o their gear,Their land, and their lordlie degree;T carena for ought but my dear,For hes ilka thing lordlie to me:His words mair than fugar are fweet!His fenfe drives ilk fear far awa!i iiften poor fool! and I greetVet oh. how fweet are the tears as theyfal Dear lafsie, he cries wi a jeer,Neer heed what the auld anes will fay;Tho weve little to brag o_neer fear,Whats gowd to a heart that is laird has baith honours and wealth;Yet fee! how hes dwining wi care:Now we, tho weve naithing but health,Are cantie and leil evermair. O Meniel the heart th
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