The Hallow Fair

There's fouth o' braw Jockies and Jennies, Comes weel buskit into the fair, Wi' ribbons on their cockernonies, And fouth o' fine flour in their hair. O Maggie was ne'er sae weel busked, Syne Willie was tied to his bride; The poney was ne'er better whisked, Wi' a cudgel that hang frae his side.

But Maggie was wondrous jealous, To see Willie busked sae braw: And Sawney he sat in the ale-house, And hard at the liquor did ca'. There was Geordie, that weel-lo'ed his lassie, He took the pint stoup in his arms, And hugg'd it, and said, "Troth they're saucie That lo'es na a gude father's bairn.

The cowte wad let naebody steer him, He was aye sae wanton and skeigh; The packmen's stands he o'erturn'd them, And gart a' the fair stand abeigh. Wi' sneering behind and before him, For sic is the metal of brutes, Poor Wattie, and wae's me for him, Was fain to gang hame in his boots.

Now it was late in the ev'ing, And bughting time was drawing near, The lassies had stenched their greening, Wi' fouth o' braw apples and beer. There was Lillie, and Tibbie, and Sibbie, And Ceicie on the spindle could spin, Stood glowring at signs and glass winnocks, But de'il a lad bade them come in.