THE
Scotch HAY-MAKERS:
OR,
Crafty JOCKEY'S Courtship
TO
Coy Jenny of Edenborough.
To an excellent new Tune, much in Request.
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I.
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'TWas within a Furlong of Edenborough Town,
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In the rosie time o'th' Year, when the Grass was down,
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Bonny Jockey, blith and gay, said to Jenny making Hay,
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Let's fit a little, Dear, and prattle, 'tis a sultry Day:
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He long had courted the black-brow'd Maid,
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But Jockey was a Wag, and wou'd ne'er consent to wed;
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Which made her pish and phoo, and cry it will not do,
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I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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II.
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He told her Marriage was grown a meer joak,
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And that no one wedded now but the Scoundrel Folk.
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Yet, my Dear, you shou'd prevail, but I know not what I ail,
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I shall dream of clogs, and silly dogs, with bottles at their tails.
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But I'll give the Gloves, and a Bongrace to wear,
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And a pretty filly Foal to ride out and take the air,
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If thou ne'r will pish and phoo, and cry out it shall not do,
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I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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III.
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That you'll give me Trinklits, cry'd she, I believe,
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But ah! what in return must your poor Jenny give,
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When my Maiden-treasure's gone, I must gang to London Town,
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And roar and rant, and patch and paint, and kiss for half a crown;
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Each drunken Bully oblige for pay,
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And earn a hated Living an odious fulsome way:
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No, no, it ne'r shall do, for a Wife I'll be to you,
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Or I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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IV.
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Ne'r was I so courted in all my life before,
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You will stop young Jenny's Breath, if you kiss me any more;
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Fie upon you Lad forbear, you'll a silly Maid ensnare
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By your fooling so, then let me go, or your locks Ise tear,
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You are uncivil, I must be coy
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Till wedded, there's no Loon shall my Maiden-head enjoy;
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Then did she pish and phoo, and cry'd, it ne'r will do,
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I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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V.
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Sike a Lad as Jockey, young Lasses would embrace,
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Who can sing them pleasant Sonnets, and dances with a grace
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On the pleasant rural Plain; do not then my Suit disdain,
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From thy charming eyes, Love, arrows flies, which renew's my pain;
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Love's fresh encounter he then renew'd;
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She cry'd out, Fie, O fie, geud faith, you's muckle rude,
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Then did she pish and phoo, and cry'd, it ne'er will do,
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I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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VI.
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If you mean to marry, Ise freely be your Bride,
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Then at pleasure you may have what is otherwise deny'd,
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Ne'er a Loon in all the Land, shall have me at his command,
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Nor my Maiden-head, until I wed, take away your hand,
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Or else I will cry, and rend the Skie,
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For I will marry'd be, or else a Maid I'll die;
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Then did she pish and phoo, and cry'd, it ne'er will do,
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I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle too.
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