Your apron, deary, I muſt confeſs,
Seems ſomething the ſhorter, tho’ naithing the leſs;
Then ha’d your tongue deary, & I will prove true,
And nae mair cry out your apron now.
Chor. Your Apron deary, Your apron now,
Your belly bears up your apron now,
hen ha’d your tongue, deary, & I will prove true,
And nae mair cry out your apron now.
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THE PATRIOT FAIR.
WHEN young and artleſs as the lamb,
Which plays about its fondling dam,
Briſk, buxom, pert, and ſilly;
I flighted all the manly ſwains,
And put my virgin heart in chains,
For ſmiling ſmooth fac’d Willy.
But when experience came with years,
Which rais’d my hopes and quell’d my fears,
My heart was blythe and bonny,
I turnd off every beardleſs youth,
So gave my word, and fix’d my truth
On honeſt ſturdy Johnny.
Next at the wake I ſaw the ’Squire,
For love I felt a new deſire.
Fond to outſhine my mammy,
I ſigh’d for fringes, frogs, and beaux,
For pig-tail wigs, and powder’d clothes,
And ſilken maſter Sammy.
For riches next I ſet a flame,
Old Gripus to my cottage came,
And held an amorous parley.
For muſic next I chanc’d to burn,
And fondly liſten’d in my turn,
To warbling quivering Charley.
