Songs

'Twas within a furlong of Edinborough Town,
In the rosy time of year when the grass was down;
Bonny Jocky blithe and gay,
Said to Jenny making hay,
Let's sit a little (dear) and prattle, 'tis a sultry day.
He long had courted the black-brown maid,
But Jocky was a wag and would ne'er consent to wed,
Which made her Pish and Pooh,
And cry out it will not do,
I canot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle to.

He told her marriage was grown a mere joke,
And that no one wedded now but the scoundrel folk,
Yet my dear thou should'st prevail,
But I know not what I ail,
I shall dream of clogs and silly dogs
With bottles at their tail;
But I'll give thee gloves and a bongrace to wear,
And a pretty filly-foal to ride out and take the air,
If thou ne'er wil't Pish and Pooh,
And cry it ne'er will do,
I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle to.

That you'll give me trinkets, cried she, I believe,
But ah! what in return must your poor Jenny give;
When my maiden treasure's gone,
I must gang to London-Town,
And roar and rant, and patch and paint,
And kiss for half-a-crown;
Each drunken bully oblige for pay,
And earn a hated living in an odious fulsome way,
No, no, no, it ne'er shall do,
For a wife I'll be to you,
Or I cannot, cannot, wonnot, wonnot buckle to.