Bess the gawkie, or, Jamie slighted (1802)/Bess the gawkie, or Jamie slighted

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BESS THE GAWKIE.

Blythe young Jean to Bess did say,
⁠Will ye gang to you sunny brae,
Where flocks do feed and herds do stray,
⁠And sport a while wi' Jamie.

Ah na, lass. I'll no gang there,
Nor about Jamie tak nae care,
Nor about Jamie tak nae care,
⁠For he's ta’en up wi'Maggie.

For hark, and I will tell you lass,
Did I not see young Jamie pass,
Wi' muckle blythness in his face,
⁠Out o’er the muir wi’ Maggie.

I wat he gae her mony a kiss,
And Maggie took them ne’er amiss,
'Tween ilka smack pleas’d her wi' this,
⁠Ihat Bess was but a Gawkie.

For whene’er a civil kiss I seek,
She turns her head and thraws her cheek,
And for an hour she’ll scarcely speak,
⁠Who'd not ca’ her a Gawkie?

But sure my Maggie has mak sense,
she’ll gie a score without offence
Now gie me ane unto the mense,
⁠And ye shall be my Dawtie.

O Jamie ye hae mony te’en,
But I will ne'er stand up for ane,
Or twa, till we do meet again,
⁠Sae ne'er think me a Gawkie.

Ah! na lass, that canna be.
Sic thoughts as these are far frae me,
Or ony thy sweet face that see,
⁠E’er to think thee a Gawkie.

But whisht, nae mair of this we'll speak,
For yonder Jamie does us meet;
Instead of Meg he kiss'd sae sweet,
⁠I true he likes the Gawkie.

O dear Bess, I hardly knew,
When I came, your gown’s sae new,
I think you've got it wet wi’ dew;
⁠Quoth Bess, that’s like a Gawkie.

It’s wet wi’ dew and ’twill get rain,
And I'll get gowns when this is gane,
Sae ye may gang the gat ye came,
⁠And tell it to your Dawtie.

The guilt appear’d in Jamie’s cheek,
He cry'd, o cruel maid, but sweet,
If I should gang anither gate,
⁠I ne'er could meet my Dawtie.

The lasses fast frae him they flew,
And left poor Jamie fair to rue,
That ever Maggie’s face he knew,
⁠Or yet ca'd Bess a Gawkie.

As they went o'er moor they sang,
The hills and dales with echoes rang,
The hills and dales with echoes rang.
⁠Gang o'er the mair to Maggie.