The SORROWFUL MAIDEN For the want of TOCHER-GOOD.  
To an Excellent Old Tune.  

THus lurking as alone I lay,  
where there was no Repair,  
A Maid before me on the way,  
I heard a Greeting fair:  
Her Moan was loud, it moved the Air,  
to hear her still I stood,  
She was lamenting evermair,  

for fault of Tocher good.    

Her roaring Cries outrageous,  
with dreary Words amain;  
Her stormy Speech and rigorous,  
as she herself had slain:  
The Tears that from her Eyes sore ran  
her Pain it multiplied;  
For wanting of a Love so long  

for fault of Tocher-good.    

Who'll pity me, suppose, I pance,  
she says, unto this Pine?  
I'm rest indeed of Wit and Sense,  
that I rage in my Mind.  
Because that I do lie alone,  
and Company's so good;  
I am in point, alas! to tine,  

for want of Tocher good.    

Alas! I know not what to do,  
I stand in such Despair;  
Or where away that I should go,  
my Maidenhead to ware,  
No marvel though my Heart be fair,  
to play I dare not do't;  
Unmarried I stand in such Fear  

for want of Tocher-good.    

An old Maiden if that I be,  
no Man will of me make;  
Then great dolour will gar me die,  
fra time they me forsake;  
Alas! my Sorrow cannot slaik,  
which gars my Pleasure fade,  
Alas! that I should want my Maik,  

for want of Tocher-good.    

My Father was a Gentleman,  
of many Lands was Laird;  
He was so rash in his Spending,  
and all his Living cleared.  
At Cards and Dice he hath it warred,  
while it did never good;  
Which gars me sit at home unserved  

for want of Tocher-good.    

These lordly Lairds they by me pass  
and scantly do me ken:  
They swear I am a lusty Lass,  
but Gear, quoth they, she's nane:  
Quoth they, it gars her sit at Hame,  
for all her gallant Weed;  
Who would have her, quoth they again;  

if she want Tocher-good?    

I busk, I keam, I prien, I straik,  
but this is all in vain;  
I make myself right Market like,  
but nothing doth avail:  
And this is even the matter hail.  
their Gear gars them be loved;  
My Heart it bowdens into Bail  

for want of Tocher-good.    

Though she were ne'er so grey a May  
into the same Country,  
Yet Young men will her kiss and clap,  
if she hath gear to gie:  
A Carl's Daughter if that she be,  
some with her will conclude,  
And marry her right honestly,  

if she have Tocher-good.    

This gars my Heart be like to burst,  
and break in Pieces three,  
When Young men do their Cheeks oft clap,  
and will not look on me.  
This is the very Cause truly,  
their Gear gars them be loved,  
I would he had been hanged hy,  

first ordained Tocher-good.    

But oh, alas! if that I witted,  
my Mind nothing should had:  
Then should I run into all Haste,  
and choose some wanton Lad:  
And yet, alas! I am so red,  
by no means I dare do't:  
No marvel though my Heart be sad  

For want of Tocher-good.    

There's no Remeed but Patience,  
Or else lie down and die:  
Take Pity on us woeful things,  
that have no Gear to gie:  
Alas! we seek of their Mercy,  
to grant us some Remeed:  
And take us from that doleful Day,  

since we want Tocher-good.    
FINIS.