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‹‹‹ prev (300) Page 198Page 198Scornfu' Nancy

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And weel I wat his bonny mou'
Is sweet like sugar- candy.
Now, Nancy, what need a' this din ?
Do I no ken this Sandy ?
I'm sure the chief o' a' his kin
Was Rab, the beggar-randy :
His minny Meg, upon her back,
Bare baith him and his billy ;
Will ye compare a nasty pack
To me, your winsome Willy ?
My gutcher left a guid braidsword :
Though it be auld and rusty,
Yet ye may tak' it on my word,
It is baith stout and tmsty ;
And if I can but get it drawn,
Which will be richt uneasy,
I shall lay baith my lugs in pawn,
That he shall get a heezy.
Then Nancy turn'd her round about,
And said, Did Sandy hear ye,
Ye wadna miss to get a clout ;
I ken he disna fear ye :
Sae baud your tongue, and say nae mair,
Set somewhere else your fancy ;
For as lang 's Sandy 's to the fore,
Ye never shall get Nancy.*
* This clever song is marked in the Tea-Table Miscellany as one of the
anonymous and old sort of which the editor knew nothing ; but I have
been informed, upon good authority, that it was the composition of a Mr
AinsUe, a small farmer at Carrington, near Dalkeith, who lived upwards of
a century ago. It seems to present a just, as it certainly does a graphic
picture of the food and dress of the rustic people of Scotland at that
period.

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