Page:Black-bird.pdf/45

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De’il tak the Wars.

De’il tak the wars that hurry'd Billy from me,
 Who to love me just had sworn;
They made him Captain sure to undo me:
 Woe's me! he’ll ne’er return.
A thousand loons abroad will fight him,
 He from thousands ne’er will run;
Day and night I did invite him
 To stay at home from sword and gun.
I us’d alluring graces,
 With muckle kind embraces,
Now sighing, then crying, my tears did fall;
   And had he my soft arms
   Preferr’d to war’s alarms,
By love grown mad, my heart being glad,
 I fear in my fit I had granted all.

I wash’d and patch'd, to make me provoking,
 Snares, they told me, would catch the men;
And on my head a huge comode sat poking,
 Which made me shew as tall again;
For a new gown too I paid muckle money,
 Which with golden flow’rs did shine!
My love well might think me gay and bonny,
 No Scots lass was e’er so fine.
   My petticoat I spotted,
   Fringe too with thread I knotted,
Lace-shoes, silken hose, garters over knee;
   But, oh! the fatal thought,
   To Billy these are nought,
Who rode to towns, and rifled with Dragoons,
 When he, silly loon, might plunder’d me.