A Scotch Song

'Twas within a Furlong of Edinborough Town,
In the Rosie time of Year when the Grass was down,
   Bonnie Jockey, Blithe and Gay,
   Said to Jenny making Hay,
Let us sit a little (Dear) and prattle,
   'Tis a sultry Day;
Long had he Courted the Black-Brow'd maid
But Jockey was a Wag, and would n'er consent to Wed;
Which made her pish and phoo, and cry out it will not do;
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, monnot buckle to.

He told her Marriage was grown a meer Joke,
And that none Wedded now but the Scoundrel Folk,
   Yet, my dear, thou shouldest 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 will pish nor phoo, and cry it ne'er shall do,
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, monnot buckle to.

That you'll give me Trinkets, cry'd 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 an hated Living an odious Fulsom way.
No, no, it ne'er shall do, for a Wife I'll be to you,
Or I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonnot, monnot buckle to.

• Tune gif midi mov

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Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin