Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/129

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111

The First Bawbee.
Oh nane, I trow, in a' the earth
Was happier than me,
When in my wee breek pouch I got
My first bawbee.

I turned it roun' and roun' wi' pride,
Syne toddled aff wi' glee,
To ware on something that was good
My first bawbee.

I met auld grannie at the door;
"Noo, Bab," says she, "tak' care
Nae feckless whigmaleeries buy
Whan you gang to the fair.

"A gaucy row, a soncy scone,
Is best for ane that's wee,
For muckle lies in hoo you ware
Your first bawbee."

My grannie's words were soon forgot
When to the Fair I gaed,
An' saw sae mony fairhes there
On ilka staun' arrayed.

I glowered at this and glanced at that
Wi' roving, greedy e'e,
Syne felt dumfounert hoo to ware
My first bawbee.

Here apples lay in mony a creel,
A' temp'in' to the view,
An' pears and plooms, whase very looks
Brocht water to my mou'.

An' there were toshed wee picture-books,
A' spread oot nice to see;
They seemed to say, "Come here and ware
Your first bawbee."

I kenned the ane wid 'gust the gab,
The ither tell me how
Cock Robin fell that waefu' day
The sparrow drew his bow.