<h2><SPAN name="page48"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>BALLAD.</h2>
<p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The</span> auld wife sat at
her ivied door,<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
A thing she had frequently done before;<br/>
And her spectacles lay on her apron’d
knees.</p>
<p class="poetry">The piper he piped on the hill-top high,<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
Till the cow said “I die,” and the goose ask’d
“Why?”<br/>
And the dog said nothing, but search’d for
fleas.</p>
<p class="poetry">The farmer he strode through the square
farmyard;<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
His last brew of ale was a trifle hard—<br/>
The connexion of which with the plot one sees.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page49"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
49</span>The farmer’s daughter hath frank blue eyes;<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
She hears the rooks caw in the windy skies,<br/>
As she sits at her lattice and shells her peas.</p>
<p class="poetry">The farmer’s daughter hath ripe red
lips;<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
If you try to approach her, away she skips<br/>
Over tables and chairs with apparent ease.</p>
<p class="poetry">The farmer’s daughter hath soft brown
hair;<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
And I met with a ballad, I can’t say where,<br/>
Which wholly consisted of lines like these.</p>
<h3><span class="smcap">Part</span> II.</h3>
<p class="poetry">She sat with her hands ’neath her dimpled
cheeks,<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
And spake not a word. While a lady speaks<br/>
There is hope, but she didn’t even sneeze.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page50"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
50</span>She sat, with her hands ’neath her crimson
cheeks;<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
She gave up mending her father’s breeks,<br/>
And let the cat roll in her new chemise.</p>
<p class="poetry">She sat, with her hands ’neath her
burning cheeks,<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
And gazed at the piper for thirteen weeks;<br/>
Then she follow’d him out o’er the misty
leas.</p>
<p class="poetry">Her sheep follow’d her, as their tails
did them.<br/>
(<i>Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese</i>)<br/>
And this song is consider’d a perfect gem,<br/>
And as to the meaning, it’s what you
please.</p>
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