The Patriarch

As honest Jacob on a night,With his beloved beauty,Was duly laid on wedlock's bed,And noddin' at his duty.

Chorus—Fal de dal, &c.

"How lang," she cried, "ye fumbling wretch,Will ye be f——ing at it?My auldest wean might die o' age,Before that ye could get it.

Fal de dal, &c.

"Ye pegh and grane, and goazle there,And make an unco splutter,And I maun lie and thole you, thoughI'm fient a hair the better."

Fal de dal, &c.

Then he in wrath put up his graith,"The devil's in the hizzie,I mow you as I mow the lave,And night and day I'm busy.

Fal de dal, &c.

"I've bairned the servant gipsies baith,Forbye your titty Leah,Ye barren jade, ye put me mad,What mair can I do wi' you?

Fal de dal, &c.

"There's ne'er a mow I've gien the lave,But ye hae got a dizzen.But d——d a ane ye'se get again,Although your c——t should gizzen."

Fal de dal, &c.

Then Rachel, calm as ony lamb,She claps him on the waulies;Quo' she, "Ne'er fash a woman's' clash,In troth ye mow me brawlies.

Fal de dal, &c.

"My dear 'tis true, for mony a mow,I am your gratefu' debtor,But ance again, I dinna ken,Will aiblins happen better."

Fal de dal, &c.

The honest man wi' little wark,He soon forgot his ire;The patriarch he coost the sark,And up and till't like fire.

Fal de dal, &c.