e quarrel ended.
But tho' his little heart did grieve
When round the tinkler prest her,
He feign'd to snirtle in his sleeve, [snigger]
When thus the caird address'd her:--

Air

TUNE: Clout the Cauldron

My bonnie lass, I work in brass,
A tinkler is my station;
I've travell'd round all Christian ground
In this my occupation;
I've ta'en the gold, I've been enroll'd
In many a noble squadron;
But vain they search'd when off I march'd
To go an' clout the cauldron. [patch]

Despise that shrimp, that wither'd imp,
Wi' a' his noise an' caperin';
An' tak a share wi' those that bear
The budget and the apron; [tool-bag]
And, by that stoup, my faith an' houp! [hope]
And by that dear Kilbaigie, [a kind of whisky]
If e'er ye want, or meet wi' scant, [dearth]
May I ne'er weet my craigie. [wet, throat]

Recitativo

The caird prevail'd--th' unblushing fair
In his embraces sunk,
Partly wi' love o'ercome sae sair, [so sorely]
An' partly she was drunk.
Sir Violino, with an air
That show'd a man o' spunk, [spirit]
Wish'd unison between the pair,
An' made the bottle clunk
To their health that night.

But hurchin Cupid shot a shaft [urchin]
That play'd a dame a shavie; [trick]
The fiddler rak'd her fore and aft,
Behint the chicken cavie. [hencoop]
Her lord, a wight of Homer's craft,
Tho' limpin' wi' the spavie, [spavin]
He hirpl'd up, an' lap like daft, [hobbled, leapt]
And shor'd them _Dainty Davie_ [yielded them as lovers]
O' boot that night. [gratis]

He was a care-defying blade
As ever Bacchus listed; [enlisted]
Tho' Fortune sair upon him laid,
His heart she ever miss'd it.
He had nae wish, but--to be glad,
Nor want but--when he thirsted;
He hated nought but--to be sad,
And thus the Muse suggested
His sang that night.

Air

TUNE: For A' That, An' A' That

I am a bard of no regard