A DIALOGUE Between Ald John M'clatchy, and Young Willie Ha', about the Marriage of his Daughter Maggy M'clatchy.  
To an Excellent New Tune.  

THE Meal was dear short shine,  
When they were Married together;  
Ann Maggy she was in her prime,  
When Willy made Courtship till her.  
Twa Pistols Charged beguess,  
To give the Courtier a Shot,  
Ann sine came been the Lass,  
We Swats drawn frae the Butt:  
He first spears at the Goodman,  
Ann sine at Jean her Mither,  
Gi'en ye'll gi'e us a bit Land,  
We'll Buckle ourselves together.   Old Man. 
My Daughter ye shall ha'e  
I'll gi'e ye her be the Hann,  
But we my Wife I man quat  
Gin I quat we my Lann;  
But your Tocher shall be good,  
I'll ne'er gang nen the meek,  
The Lass been in her Snood,  
And Cromy that ken the Stake;  
We an ald Bedding o' Clea's,  
Was left me by my Mither,  
They're geet-black o'er wee fleas  
You may H— dle in them together.  Youngman. 
A Bargain it shall be,  
But ye man mend your Hann,  
Ann think on Modesty;  
Gi'en ye'll no quat we your Lann,  
We are but young ye ken,  
Ann now we're ga●n together,  
A House is But and Ben,  
Ann Cromie she wants her Fadder;  
The Bairns are coming on,  
Ann they'll cry on there Mither,  
We ha'e neither Pot nor Pan,  
But four bair Legs together.  Old Man. 
Thou shall ha'e Tocher aneugh,  
Ann that thou need not fear,  
Twa good stilts to the Pleugh,  
Ann thou thyself man star;  
Thou'st ha'e twa good ald pocks,  
That was enst made of the Tweel,  
The teen to had the Groats,  
The tither to had the Meal:  
We an ald Kissed made o' wans  
I'll give thee to thy Coffer,  
We eiken woddie bans,  
And that may had your Tocher.  Youngman. 
Consider now Goodman,  
I ha'e but barrowed gear,  
The Beast that I Ride on,  
Is Sanny Wilson's Mere;  
But as soon as I 'gan heem,  
I'll take me to my Cutts,  
The Saddle is nean of my ain,  
Ann these are barrawed Boots,  
The Clock is Geordie Wat's,  
That gars me look so Cruss,  
Fie fill us a Cog o'Swats  
We'll make ne ma●e toomrouss.  Old-Man. 
Thou art an onest Lad,  
For telling me so plain,  
I Married when little I had,  
Of Gear that was my ain;  
Goodsooth if it be see,  
The Bride she man come forth,  
Tho' a the gear she has,  
It is but little worth;  
A Briddle it shall be,  
See spear at Jean her Mither,  
Content am I, quoth she,  
Fie gar the Lass come hither;  
The Bride lap in to the Bed,  
Ann the Bridegroom ge till her  
The Fiddler crap in to the mids  
Ann they H— dled altogether.  
FINIS.