41
Let art an' let nature display their proud treasures,
Let paradise boast o' what ance it could gi'e;
My riches are greater, mair sweet are my pleasures.
In the heart-meltin' blink o' my lassie's blue e'e.
Jenny's Barbee.
I met four chaps yon birks amang,
Wi' hanging lugs and faces lang;
⟨I⟩ spier'd at neibour Baldy Strang,
What are these we see?
⟨Quoth⟩ he, ilk cream-fac'd pawky chiel'
Thinks himsel cunnin' as the de'il,
And here they cam' awa' to steal
Jenny's bawbee.
The first, a captain to his trade,
⟨Wi'⟩ ill-lin'd scull, and back weel clad,
March'd round the barn, and by the shed,
And papped on his knee:
⟨Quoth⟩ he, my goddess, nymph and queen,
⟨Your⟩ beauty's dazzled baith my een!
But de'il a beauty he had seen
But Jenny's bawbee.
⟨A⟩ Norland laird neist trotted up,
D3
