A Bachelor's life of all lives is the best,
No cares matrimonial disturb his calm rest;
No lectures, call'd curtain, shake sleep from his eyes,
When tir'd he can rest, and when tir'd he can rise.
If a ride be propos'd, a walk, or the bowl,
No tongue dare to thwart him, no wife can controul;
Whate'er be his humour: to sing, snore, or pout,
That man, sure, is happiest, that freely can do't.
A friend he can visit, or by himself sit,
Put on just what clothes or what looks he thinks fit:
Can fondle with Jowler, and give him a kiss,
And no one to say to him,-Fie! 'tis amiss.
On beef he can breakfast: with ale wash it down,
Unenvying muse on the modes of the town;
With content in his heart, but no horns on his head,
Unmarry'd if thus,-what bewitchment to wed!
HAT ails-ta, Jemmy, thou's sae soon a-fit?
Day wulln't peep thur twea lang hawf-hours
yet;
I'se pinch'd to ken my thoum afore my eyne,
And not ae lav'rock yet has left the green.
The self-same question, Seym, I to thee make;
For, to my thinking, Seymon's wide awake.
True, Jemmy, true, owre true is what thou says;
I've not yence wink'd thur seven lang neets and days.
My Nan's the cru'lest lass that e'er was bworn,
To aw my sighs she answers nought but scworn;
'Twas this day week we rak'd the meadow's preyde-
And sen that day thur eyne have waken'd weyde,—
The sun shin'd het, we aw wi' ae consent,
To flee its fworce, to the deyke-gutter went;
Each lad tuik her he lik'd upon his knee,
Nin stood unmarrow'd save my Nan and me.
I set my tongue to luive, and said, "Sweet Nan!
When aw the lave are down why sud we stan'?
Come to thy Seym-thy Seymkin's only preyde!
If nought thou grant me, aeways grace my seyde."
"Wa whoo-te-whoo!" she cried, and scowpt away,
"I wad as soon come to our cur-dog Tray."
My varra bluid ran cauld within my breast,
Thus to be liken'd to a dumb brute beast;
The lads gap'd wide, the lasses glopp'd about,
I sigh'd and luik'd full sheepishly nae doubt.
'Twas but yestreen-a waefu' day, God kens!—
We loaded hay down in the wide Lang-tens;
The wark was pleasant, and shwort seem'd the day,
For Nan was loader, and I fork'd the hay,
And could have fork'd a month without a meal;
Luiking at Nan my pith would never fail.
A cannier loaded car thou never saw;
Nin loads like Nan-nin, nin amang them aw.
When aw was duin, I crept to the car seyde,
And gleymin up, wi' beath my arms spread weyde,
"Come luive," quo I, "I'll waanly tak thee down."
"Stand off, thou gowk," she answer'd with a frown,
Then with a spang lowpt down amang the hay.
I scratch'd my lug; what could I dui or say.
Waes me! oh, Jemmy, hard's peer Seymon's kease!
Wad that I ne'er had seen her witchin' feace!
I'se aw foan frae my coat six inch or mair;
This waefu' luive pulls down a body sair.
O simple Seymon! that's thy proper name,
Pluck up thy heart and be a man, for shame;
Leave thur waes-me's, sighs, sobs, and sec like stuff,
For women mind not whinging-wark a snuff.
I'll tell thee how I sarv'd my lassie, man,—
And I luive Rose as weel as thou luives Nan,-
We loaded hay tui in yon three nuikt clwose,
Mysel was forker and the loader Rose;
She smurk'd sae sweetly, luik'd wi' sec a grace,
I got lal wrought for gleymin at her face;
Wi' mickle-a-de the ropes at last were tied,
When "Flower of flowers, my red-cheek'd Rose,"
I cried,
"Skurrle, skurrle thee down-I'll kep thee-come thy ways
I'll luik behint me-never mind thy claes."
"Nay, Jemmy, nay," she cried, "I'll come mysel." She came, but straight into my arms she fell;
I coddled her clwose, and gave her many a smack,
For full five minutes not a word she spak ;
When she gat loose, she luik'd like ane reed-mad,
Up went her rake wi' "Tak thee that, my lad!"
Twice mair she rais'd it, "Aye, and that, and that!"
Waanly it fell, I hardlins felt each bat;
For aw her frowning, I could plainly see
A luively smile sit lurkin' in her ee.
At neet I met her by her own sweet sell,
And then-but lovers munnet aw things tell.
Oh, Jemmy, thou's deep vers'd in womankind,
Kens aw their feekment, feikment ways I find;
Wad thou but 'vise me how to make Nan mine,
At Rosley Fair I'll treat wi' bluid-reed wine.
I'll freely do't, and hope 'twill mend thy state,
I'se greiv'd to hear thee whinging at this rate.
When neist Nan frumps and frowns, and flisks and
kicks,
Tell her thou sees through aw her shallow tricks,
And sen she leads thee sec a wild-goose chase,
Thou'lt owre the burn off-hand to blinking Bess.
And seem to gang; thou'lt hear her in a crack
Cry "Mayslin gowk! I nobbit jwok'd-come back!"
Thanks, Jemmy, thanks, I find thy council's reet;
When Nan I've strok'd she's pulsh'd me like a peet.
I'll now grow wise, I've been a fool owre lang,
I'll change my nwote and sing a diff'rent sang.
Whish! yon's their Tray, Nan's ganging to the kye;
I'll follow, and my new-fangled courtship try.
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