THE Scotch HAY-MAKERS: OR, Crafty JOCKEY's Courtship TO Coy Jenny of edinburgh.  
To an excellent new Tune, much in Request.  
 

I.  
'twas within a Furlong of edinburgh Town,  
In the rosy time o'th' Year, when the Grass was down,  
Bonny Jockey, blithe and gay, said to Jenny making Hay,  
Let's sit a little, Dear, and prattle, 'tis a sultry Day:  
He long had courted the black-brow'd Maid,  
But Jockey was a Wag, and would never consent to wed;  
Which made her pish and phoo, and cry it will not do;  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.   

II.  
He  told her Marriage was grown a mere joak,  
And that no one wedded now but the Scoundrel Folk.  
Yet, my Dear, you should prevail, but I know not what I all,  
I shall dream of clogs, and silly dogs, with bottles at their tails.  
But I'll give the Gloves, and a Bongrace to wear,  
And a pretty filly Foal to ride out and take the air,  
If thou ne'er will pish and phoo, and cry out it shall not do,  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.   

III.  
That you'll give me Trinklits, cried she, I believe,  
But ah! what in return must your poor Jenny give,  
When my Maiden-treasure's gone, I mun 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 a hated Living an odious fulsome way:  
No, no, it ne'er shall do, for a Wife I'll be to you,  
Or I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.   

IV.  
ne'er was I so courted in all my life before,  
You will stop young Jenny's Breath, if you kiss me any more;  
Fie upon you Lad forbear, you'll a silly Maid ensnare  
By your fooling so, then let me go, or your locks Ise tear,  
You are uncivil, I must be coy  
Till wedded, there's no Loon shall my Maiden-head enjoy;  
Then did she pish and phoo, and cried, it ne'er will do,  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.   

V.  
sick a Lad as Jockey, young, Lasses would embrace,  
Who can sing them pleasant Sonnets, and dances with a grace  
On the pleasant rural Plain; do not then my svit disdain,  
From thy charming eyes, Love, arrows flies, which renew's my pain;  
Love's fresh encounter he then renewed;  
She cried out, Fie, O fie, geud faith, you's muckle rude,  
Then did she pish and phoo, and cried, it never will do,  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.   

VI.  
If you mean to mary, Ise freely be your Bride,  
Then at pleasure you may have what is otherwise denied,  
never a Loon in all the Land, shall have me at his command,  
Nor my Maiden-head, until I wed, take away your hand,  
Or else I will cry, and rend the sky,  
For I will married be, or else a Maid I'll die;  
Then did she pish and phoo, and cried, it never will do,  
I cannot, cannot, cannot, wonot, wonot buckle too.    

LONDON: Printed for C. Bates, at the Sun and Bible in pie-corner.