8
Waes me, for baith I canna get,
To ane by law wa're stented;
Then I'll draw cuts and take my fate,
And be with ane contented.
O MEIKLE THINKS MY LOVE
O meikle thinks my luve o' my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o' my kin;
But little thinks my luve, I ken brawlie
My tocher's the jewel has charms for him.
It's a' for the apple he'll nourish the tree
It's a' for the hiney he'll cherish the bee;
My laddie's sae meikle in luve wi' the siller,
He canna hae luve to spare for me,
Your proffer o' luve's an earl penny.
My tocher's the bargain ye wad buy;
But an ye be crafty; I am cunning,
Sae ye wi' another your, fortune maun try.
Ye're like to the timmer o' yon rotten wood,
Ye're like to the bark o' yon rotten tree,
Ye'll slip frae me like the knotless thread,
And ye'll crack your credit wi' mae ner me.
FINIS.
