  Mickle did I love my Jeanie, Syn’ she wa’ a peekle weanie, Kittlin’ A’ sae winsom’, A’ sae hinsom’, Dainty skirrock How I coodled Dooning Till her twa bright een they leekit, A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, Watting sair her cheekit. Says she, “Let lassies fash their streeps Wi’ drummie stick an’ paudy peeps, Gie me my Tam wi’ squeezy-greeps,” A’ sae winsom’, A’ sae hinsom’, “Ane whiskey-toddy on fowre leeps.” Wull ye be my ain, my lassie? Pibroch-peeps wi’ jug and glassie; Pladdie, too, wi’ ribbon sassie, A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, All I gie, but hae nae brassie. Says she, “Sin ye’ve nae brassie-jingle, All the rest is sandie-shingle; Sae wi’ ye I winna mingle,” A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, SAWBATH RECREATION Gentleman from N. B. (he had sent his Presbyterian butler to a service at Westminster Abbey). “Well, Dugald, what did you think of it?” Dugald. “Aweel, sir, it was mair like heev’n than airth; but e—h, sir, it’s just an awfu’ way o’ spennin’ the Sawbath, yon!!” The Irishman in Scotland.—Sorr, there is a river that requires milk an’ sugar before ye’d dhrink a dhrop of it? What is it? Sure ’tis the river Tay. A Conundrum made by a Little Boy only Seven Years Old.—Why is an umbrella like a Scottish shower?—Because the moment it rains it’s missed. Scene—A Scottish Estate. The New Heir has run down to see the property. The Heir. “I sha’n’t be able to come and settle here just yet, McTavish, as I’m ordered out to South Africa, but——” McTavish (his Factor—with feeling). “A’m sorry,—A’m varra sorry to hear that”—(the Heir is rather touched)—“because ye’ll understan’, if onything was to happen to ye, A doot the estate couldna stan’ two succession duties so close.” |
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