8
He spake o' the darts o' my bonny black een,
An' how for my love he was dien';
I said he might die when he liket for Jean,
The guide forgi'e me for lien'!
But what do ye think in a fortnight or less,
(The diel's in his taste to gae near her),
He's down the lang glen to my black cousin Bess,
Guess ye how the jade I could bear her!
Sae a' the neist owk as I fretted wi care,
I gaed to the tryst o' Dulgarlock;
An' wha but my braw fickle wooer was there,
Wha glowr'd as if he'd seen a warlock.
Out o'er my left shouther I gied him a blink,
Lest neibours shou'd think I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
An' vow'd that I was a dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthie an' sweet,
It she had recover'd her hearin;
And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel'd feet,
Gude safe us! how he fell a swearin.
He begg'd me for Gudesake! that I'd be his wife
Or else I wad kill him with sorrow;
Sae ⟨just to⟩ preserve the poor body in life,
I think I shall wed him to-morrow.
FINIS.
