BARLEY
BROTH
.
Air
—
Crowdy
.
IF
tempers
were
put
up
to
seale
,
Our
Jwohn's
wad
bear
a
duced
preyce
;
He
vow'd
'twas
barley
i'
the
broth
,
—
Upon
my
word
,
says
I
,
it's
reyce
.
"
I
mek
nea
faut
,
"
our
Jwohnny
says
,
"
The
broth
is
guid
and
varra
neyce
;
I
only
say
—
it's
barley
broth
.
"
Tou
says
what's
wrang
,
says
I
,
it's
reyce
.
Did
ever
mortal
hear
the
leyke
!
As
if
I
hadn't
sense
to
tell
!
Tou
may
think
reyce
the
better
thing
,
But
barley
broth
dis
just
as
well
.
"
"
And
sae
it
mud
,
if
it
was
there
;
The
deil
a
grain
is
i'
the
pot
;
But
tou
mun
ayways
threep
yen
down
,
—
I've
drawn
the
deevil
of
a
lot
!
"
"
And
what's
the
lot
that
I
have
drawn
?
Pervarsion
is
a
woman's
neame
!
Sae
fares-te-weel
!
I'll
sarve
my
king
,
And
never
,
never
mair
come
heame
.
"
Now
Jenny
frets
frae
mworn
to
neet
;
The
Sunday
cap's
nae
langer
neyce
;
She
aye
puts
barley
i'
the
broth
,
And
hates
the
varra
neame
o'
reyce
.
Thus
treyfles
vex
,
and
treyfles
please
,
And
treyfles
mek
the
sum
o'
leyfe
;
And
treyfles
mek
a
bonny
lass
A
wretched
or
a
happy
weyfe
!