The legacy/Gude Forgi'e Me For Lien'

GUDE FORGI'E ME FOR LIEN'.

Ae day a braw wooer came down the lang glen,
An' sair wi' his love he did deave me;
But I said, there was naething I hated like men,
But O! what a fool to believe me.

A well stocket mailen, himsel' for the laird,
A bridal aff hand was the proffer,
I never loot on that I kent it, or car'd;
But thought I might get a waur offer.

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.