Peggy Bawn (Edinburgh)/Robin is my only Jo

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Robin is my only jo.

Robin is my only jo,
For Robin has the a t to woo,
So to his suit I mean to bow,
⁠Because I ken he lo’es me
Happy, happy, was the shower,
That led me to his birken bower.
Whare first of love I fand the power,
⁠And kend that Robin loed me.

They speak of napkins, speak of rings
Speak of gloves, and kissing strings
And name a thousand bonny things
⁠And ca’ them signs he lo’es me.
But I’d prefer a smack o’ Rob,
Sporting on the velvet fog,
To gifts as lang's a plaiden wob,
⁠Because I ken he lo’es ine.

He’s tall and sonsy, flank and free,
Lo’ed by a’, and dear to me,
Wi’ him I'd live, wi’ him I'd die,
⁠Because I ken he lo’es me.
My titty Mary said to me,
Our courtship but a joke wad be,
Aad I, or lang, be made to see
⁠That Robin didna lo'e me

But little kens she what has been,
Me and my honest Rob between,
And in his wooing, O sae keen,
⁠Kind Robin is that lo'es me.
Then flee, ye lazy hours away,
And hasten round the happy day,
When "join your hands," Mess John shall say,
⁠And mak him mine that lo’es me.