4 He spake o‘ the darts in my bonny black e'en, And vow‘d for my love he was dying ? I said he might die when he liked for Jean, The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying, The Lord forgie me for lying.
A weel stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird, And marriage aff'-hand were his proffers, I never loot on that I kend or I car‘d, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offert, But thought I might get waur offers.
But what wad you think? in a fortnight or less, The deil tak his taste to gae hear her ! He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jade ! I could bear her could bear her, Guess ye how the jade ! I could bear her.
But a' the neist week I fretted wi‘ care, I gaed to the tryst o1 Delgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr'd as I‘d seen a warlock, a warlock, I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.
But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink, Lest neehours might say I was saucy,
