ON SEEING MR. — BAKING CAKES. 

AS Rab, who ever frugal was,
 Some oat-meal cakes was baking,
 In came a crazy scribbling lass,
 Which set his heart a-quaking. 

 "I fear," says he, "she'll verses write,
 An' to her neebors show it:
 But troth I need na care a doit,
 Though a' the country knew it. 

My cakes are good, none can object;
 The maids will ca' me thrifty;
 To save a sixpence on the peck
 Is just an honest shifty. 

They're fair an' thin, an' crump, 'tis true;
 You'll own sae when you see them;
 But, what is better than the view,
 Put out your han' an' pree them. " 

He spoke, an' han'd the cakes about,
 Whilk ev'ry eater prized;
 Until the basket was run out,
 They did as he advised. 

An' ilka ane that got a share,
 Said that they were fu' dainty;
 While Rab cri'd eat, an' dinna spare
 For I hae cakes in plenty. 

And i' the corner stan's a cheese,
 A glass an' bottle by me;
 Baith ale and porter, when I please,
 To treat the lasses slily. 

Some ca' me wild an' roving youth;
 But sure they are mistaken:
 The maid wha gets me, of a truth,
 Her bread will ay be baken.