Three excellent new sons (sic)/The unco bit want

THE UNCO BIT WANT.

I AM a young Lass in my prime,
⁠My age it is just twenty-one;
I think it a very fit time,
⁠To buckle myself to a man,
I’ve baith bread and kitchen nae scant,
⁠I gang i’ the fashion fu’ braw;
Yet still I've an unco bit want,
⁠That fashes me mair than them a’

CHORUS.

For I’m ripe, an’ ready an’ a’,
⁠Ready, an’ ripe an’ a’,
I wish I may get a bit man,
⁠Before that my beauty gae wa’,

A’ day as I spin wi’ my mither,
⁠An lilts o’er to mysel, a bit sang
How Lasses an’ Lads gang the gither,
⁠O sirs but it gars me think lang,
In bed I am like to gang crazy;
⁠I dram, I row, an' I gaunt,
Where I might be lying fu’ easy,
⁠Were’t no for this unco bit want,
⁠For I’m ripe, &c.

Young Andrew comes whiles in the glomin,
⁠An’ draws in a stool by my side,
But he’s ay sae fleed for a woman,
⁠That after his face he maun hide,
I steer up my temper-string gayly,
⁠An’ whiles a verse I will rant,
Young women you ken maun be wyilie,
⁠To make up that unco bit want.
⁠For a’m ripe, &c.,

I’m thinkin’ sometime when he’s rising,
⁠To make a bit stap to the door,
An' raise a wee crack that’s enticing,
⁠Parhads that he kent nae afore.
An‘ O if the Laddie wad tak me,
⁠An’ raise a bit canty wee rant,
There’s naething mair pleasure wad gi’ me,
⁠For that’s just my unco bit want,
⁠For I'm ripe, &c.