The Mauchline Wedding
When Eighty-five was seven month auld,
And wearing thro the aught,
When rotting rains and Boreas bauld
Gied farmer-folks a faught;
Ae morning quondam Mason Will,
Now Merchant Master Miller,
Gaed down to meet wi Nansie Bell
And her Jamaica siller,
To wed, that day.
The rising sun o'er Blacksideen
Was just appearing fairly,
When Nell and Bess got up to dress
Seven lang half-hours o'er early!
Now presses clink and drawers jink,
For linnens and for laces;
But modest Muses only think
What ladies' underdress is,
On sic a day.
But we'll suppose the stays are lac'd,
And bony bosoms steekit;
Tho, thro the lawn - but guess the rest -
An Angel scarce durst keek it:
Then stockins fine, o silken twine,
Wi cannie care are drawn up;
And gartened tight, whare mortal wight
But now the gown wi rustling sound,
Its silken pomp displays;
Sure there's no sin in being vain
O siccan bony claes!
Sae jimp the waist, the tail sae vast -
Trouth, they were bony Birdies!
O Mither Eve, ye wad been grave
To see their ample hurdies
Sae large that day!!!
Then Sandy wi's red jacket braw
Comes, whip-jee-whoa! about,
And in he gets the bony twa?
Lord send them safely out!
And auld John Trot wi sober phiz
As braid and braw's a Bailie,
His shouthers and his Sunday's giz
Wi powther and wi ulzie
Weel smear'd that day.