THE BRAW WOOER.
Tune— The Lothian Lassie.
Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
And sair wi’ his love he did deave me;
I said there was naething I hated like men,
The deuce tak him to believe me, believe me,
The deuce tak him to believe me.
He spak o‘ the daris o’ my bonnie black een.
And vow’d for my love he was diein;
I said he might die when he liket for Jean,
The Lord forgie me for lien, for lien,
The Lord forgie me for Iien!
A weel stockit mailen, himsel for the laird.
And marriage aff hand was the proffer;
I never loot on that I kent it, or car’d,
But thought I might get a waur offer, waur effer,
But thought I might get a waur offer.
But what do ye think? in a fortnight or less,
(The deil’s in his taste to gang near her!)
He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess;
Guess ye how, the jad ! I could bear her, could bear her,
Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.
Sae a’ the niest week as I fretted wi‘ care,
I gade to the tryst o‘ Dalgarnock,
And wha but my braw fickle wooer was there,
I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock;
I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock
