6
And a’ to pleasure our gudeman,
For he’s baith leal and true.
For there's nae luck, &c.
Sae sweet his voice. sae smooth his tongue,
His breath’s like caller air;
His very tread has music in’t,
As he comes up the stair.
And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?
I’m downright dizzy wi’ the joy,
In troth I’m like to greet.
For there’s nae luck, &c.
The cauld blasts o’ the winter wind,
That thirl’d thro’ my heart,
They’re a’ blawn by, I hae him safe,
Till death we’ll never part.
But what puts parting in my head?
It may be far awa;
The present moment is our ain,
The neist we never saw.
Since Colin's weel, I’m weel content;
I hae nae mair to crare.
Could I but live to mak him blest,
I’m blest aboon the lave.
And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?
I’m downright dizzy wi’ the thought
In troth, I’m like to greet.
