The Modern Scottish Minstrel Volume I Part 3

V.

Says the Clown, when I tell him to do what he ought, "Sir, whatever your character be, To obey you in this I will never be brought, And it 's _wrong_ to be meddling with me."

Says my Wife, when she wants this or that for the house, "Our matters to ruin must go: Your reading and writing is not worth a souse, And it 's _wrong_ to neglect the house so."

VI.

Thus all judge of me by their taste or their wit, And I 'm censured by old and by young, Who in one point agree, though in others they split, That in something I 'm still in the _wrong_.

But let them say on to the end of the song, It shall make no impression on me: If to differ from such be to be in the _wrong_, In the _wrong_ I hope always to be.

LIZZY LIBERTY.

TUNE--_"Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen."_

I.

There lives a la.s.sie i' the braes, And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her, When she has on her Sunday's claes, Ye never saw a lady brawer; So a' the lads are wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!

II.

Her mither ware a tabbit mutch, Her father was an honest d.y.k.er, She 's a black-eyed wanton witch, Ye winna shaw me mony like her: So a' the lads are wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her!

III.

A kindly la.s.s she is, I 'm seer, Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her, And nae a sw.a.n.kie far nor near, But tries wi' a' his might to win her: They 're wooing at her, fain would hae her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!

IV.

For kindly though she be, nae doubt, She manna thole the marriage tether, But likes to rove and rink about, Like Highland cowt amo' the heather: Yet a' the lads are wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.

V.

It 's seven year, and some guid mair, Syn Dutch Mynheer made courts.h.i.+p till her, A merchant bluff and fu' o' care, Wi' chuffy cheeks, and bags o' siller; So Dutch Mynheer was wooing at her, Courting her, but cudna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.

VI.

Neist to him came Baltic John, Stept up the brae, and leukit at her, Syne wear his wa', wi' heavy moan, And in a month or twa forgat her: Baltic John was wooing at her, Courting her, but cudna get her; Filthy elf, she 's nae herself, wi' sae mony wooing at her.

VII.

Syne after him cam' Yankie Doodle, Frae hyne ayont the muckle water; Though Yankie 's nae yet worth a boddle, Wi' might and main he would be at her: Yankie Doodle 's wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.

VIII.

Now Monkey French is in a roar, And swears that nane but he sall hae her, Though he sud wade through bluid and gore, It 's nae the king sall keep him frae her: So Monkey French is wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.

IX.

For France, nor yet her Flanders' frien', Need na think that she 'll come to them; They 've casten aff wi' a' their kin, And grace and guid have flown frae them; They 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.

X.

A stately chiel they ca' John Bull Is unco thrang and glaikit wi' her; And gin he cud get a' his wull, There 's nane can say what he wad gi'e her: Johnny Bull is wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Filthy Ted, she 'll never wed, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her.

XI.

Even Irish Teague, ayont Belfast, Wadna care to speir about her; And swears, till he sall breathe his last, He 'll never happy be without her: Irish Teague is wooing at her, Courting her, but canna get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.

XII.

But Donald Scot 's the happy lad, Though a' the lave sud try to rate him; Whan he steps up the brae sae glad, She disna ken maist whare to set him: Donald Scot is wooing at her, Courting her, will maybe get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.

XIII.

Now, Donald, tak' a frien's advice-- I ken fu' weel ye fain wad hae her; As ye are happy, sae be wise, And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her: Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, Courting her, will maybe get her; Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her.

XIV.

Ye 're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they 're sayin', Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her; And gin ye had her a' your ain, Ye might na find it mows to guide her: Ye 're wooing at her, fain wad hae her, Courting her, will maybe get her; Cunning quean, she 's ne'er be mine, as lang 's sae mony 's wooing at her.

THE STIPENDLESS PARSON.

TUNE--_"A Cobbler there was,"_ &c.

I.

How happy a life does the Parson possess, Who would be no greater, nor fears to be less; Who depends on his book and his gown for support, And derives no preferment from conclave or court!

Derry down, &c.