THE MAGIC PILL
A TALE.
IN yonder glen, beside a meadow,
Liv’d Nanse, on auld, bien, honest widow,
Wha had ae daughter named Bess,
An’ Bessie was a bonnie lass.
To ilka lad her mind was steeket,
Excepting Davie whom she liket;
Wha was a braw, blythe, rustic Billie,
As ever canter’d on a fillie,
And counted it: the height o' bliss,
To love and be belov’d by Bess.
They pledg’d their oaths, to join their hands,
As weell as hearts, in marriage bands;
An’ wi’ the custom condescended
To tell auld Nanse what was intended,
Wha wi’a mother’s transport bless’d them,
An’ a the joys o’ wedlock wish’d them.
Now Nanse an’ Bessie to their liken
Made ready blankets, sheets and tyken,
An’ ither things for back and bedding,
In expectation o’ the wedding—
But while they made sic preparation,
Poor Bess turn’d pale wi’ sad vexation.
For Davie took up wi’ anither.
And left poor Bessie a’ thegither.
Nanse, griev’d to see her Bessie mourn,
Sae sair affronted and forlorn.
Set out ae day, thro’ dirt an’ water,
To get advice about the matter,
Frae a learn’d doctor she’d hear tell o’,
Wha had some drugs could fix the fellow.
To wave description, how she wan’erin
Athort the city lang gade daunerin’,
How chiels and hizzies at her sneert,
When for the doctor’s house she speert
Suffice it, when we only tell
At length she gat him by himsel’.
