Page:Beneath the willow tree.pdf/5

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5

He spake o' the darts o' my bonny black-e'en;
An' O, for my love he was diein'
I said he might die whan he lizet for Jean:
The Gude forgi'e me for liein'.

But what do you think? in a fortnight or less
He has a poor taste to gae near her)
He's down to the castle to back cousin Bess;
O, think how I could endure her.

An' a' the naist ouk as I fretted wi care,
I ga d to the tryst o' Dulgar ock;
An' wha but my bra sickle wooer was there?
Wha star'd as if he had seen a warlock.

Out owre my left shouther I gied him ablink,
Lest neighbours shou'd say I was saucy,,
My wooer he caper'd as he had been in drink,
And vow'd that was his dear lassie.

I speer d for my cousin, fu' couthy and sweet,
And if she'd recovered her hearin':
And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel'd feet
Gude saf us he fell a swearin'.

He begg'd me for gudesake that I'd be his wife,
Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow:
And just to preserve the poor body in life,
I think I will wed him to morrow.