The young DAMOSELS COMPLAIN[T] For being slighted by a Youngman in a Palmers Weed. To the Tune of the, Gaberluingie Man.
|
1.
|
THe Carle came hirpling ov'r a tree
|
With many fair fleetching good dayes & good deens to me,
|
Saying good wife, for your Courtesy
|
Will you lodge a silly poor man?
|
2.
|
The night was rainy and he was all wett,
|
And down before the fire he satt,
|
He flung his Meal-pock off his back
|
And he began and sang.
|
3.
|
And O (quoth he) gif I were as free,
|
As first, when I came to this Countrey;
|
Then blyth and merry would I be,
|
And I would never think lang, O!
|
4.
|
O then (quoth she) gif I were as white,
|
As ever the snow lay on the dike!
|
Then would I dress me Lady-like,
|
And with thee, I would gang.
|
5.
|
Then (quoth he) gif thou wert as black,
|
As ever the Croun of thy Fathers hatt,
|
Gif thou would lye down by my back,
|
And with me thou should gang.
|
6.
|
These two together made a plott,
|
To rise a little before the Cock;
|
And so cunningly they shutt the lock,
|
And to the fields they'r gon.
|
7.
|
Be times in the morning the good wife she rose,
|
And laisily put on here Cloaths;
|
And to the Servant Lass she goes:
|
Where lyes this poor old Man.
|
8.
|
She did gang, where the poor man lay;
|
And the Strae was cold and he was away,
|
She clapped here hands, and cry'd wallawae:
|
For some of her gear his gone.
|
9.
|
Some ran to Coffers, and some to Chests,
|
But there was nothing there, which she had mist:
|
She clapped her hands and cry'd thanks be blest,
|
Wee mett with a leill poor man.
|
I0.
|
But who can ease me of my pain
|
To bring these Traytors back again:
|
For he's be burnt, and she's be slayn,
|
That woefull Gaberlungie man.
|
11.
|
Some rade on Horses, and some on foot,
|
The wife was so sorry, she ran out of her wit,
|
But she was twice as far out of the gate
|
Even with that Gaberluingie man.
|
12.
|
Her Reply.
|
Mother she sayes, I do you exhort,
|
If any such Beggars come athort,
|
Give them a little of your support,
|
And let them not stay too long O!
|
13.
|
For if they stay but over a night
|
Sure all things then will not rule right:
|
For I have gotten such ane a slight,
|
Even with this Gaberlungie man.
|
14.
|
Yet will I sell both Rock and Reel,
|
And so will I my Spinning-wheel,
|
And I will buy ane Staff of Steel,
|
And with him I will gang, O!
|
15.
|
His Reply.
|
Fair maid, (he sayes) thou art too young,
|
Thou hast not learnt the Beggers tongu[e]
|
To follow me from Town to Town,
|
And bear my Gaberluingie, O!
|
16.
|
Her Reply.
|
I will cruick my leg and bow my knee
|
And draw a black cloute over mine eye,
|
And some time, creeple, they will call m[e]
|
And with thee I will gang, O!
|
17.
|
If my Mother wist, that I were with you
|
So ill-fav'rdly. she wad cruick, her mo[w]
|
And another poor man she wad never trow
|
For such a Gaberluingie, O!
|
18.
|
His Reply.
|
Fair maid, if thou gang, thou shalt no[?]
|
And I's lay thee every night by my side
|
And I's dresse thee as ever was any Bride:
|
For I's dresse thee as I can, O!
|
19.
|
Her Reply.
|
With Calk and Keel I shall win my bread,
|
And with Spinnels and Thorles, gif ye sta[d]
|
And that's a Genty Trade Indeed
|
And I'le bear thy Gaberluingie man.
|
|
|
|
|
|