( 34 )
Wi' ruefu' face, and signs o' grace,
I paid the buttock hire;
The night was dark, and thro' the park,
I couldna but convoy her.
A parting kiss, what could I less;
My vows began to scatter,
Sweet Betsy fell, fal, lal, de ral.
And I'm a fornicator.
But by the sun and moon I swear,
And I'll fulfill ilk hair o't,
That while I own a single crown,
She's welcome to a share o't.
My roguish boy, his mother's joy.
And darling of his pater,
I for his sake, the name will take,
A hardened fornicator.