A Poets Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter
e fash.
wele! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter,
tho' ye e here a wee unsought for,
and tho' your in' i hae fought for,
baith kirk and queir;
yet, by my faith, ye're no unwrought for,
that i shall swear!
wee image o' my boty,
as fatherly i kiss and daut thee,
as dear, and near my heart i set thee
wi' as gude will
as a' the priests had see thee
that's out o' hell.
sweet fruit o' mony a merry dint,
my funny toil is now a' tint,
sin' thou came to the warl' asklent,
which fools may scoff
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