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Katie Drummond

 My Louis loved me oh so well
 And spiered me for his wife;
He would have haled me from the hell
 That was my bawdy life:
The mother of his bairns to be,
 Daftlike he saw in me.
But I, a hizzie of the town Just telt him we must part; Loving too well to drag him down I tore him from my heart: To save the honour of his name I went back to my shame.
They say he soared to starry fame, Romance flowed from his pen; A prince of poets he became, Pride of his fellow men: My breast was pillow for his head, Yet naught of his I've read.
Smoking my cutty pipe the while, In howths of Leith I lag; * My Louis lies in South Sea isle As I a sodden hag Live on .
.
.
Oh Love, by men enskied The day you went--I died.
*R.
L.
S.

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