GUDE FORGE' ME FOR LIEIN'.
Ae day a braw wooer came down the lang glen
And sair wi' his love did he deave me;
But I said there was naething I hated like men,
The deuce tak' the lad to believe me.
A weel stocket mailen himself o't the laird,
An' bridal aff han' was the proffer;
I never loot on that I kend or I ca'rd,
But I thought I might get a waur offer.
He spake o' the darts o' my bonny black e'en;
An' O, for my love he was diein'
I said he might die when he liket 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 black cousin Bess;
O, think how could I endure her.
An' a' the niest ouk as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryst o' Dulgarlock;
An' wha. but my braw sickle wooer was there?
Wha star'd as if he'd seen a warlock.
Out owre my left shoulder I gied him a blink,
Lest neighbours should say I was saucy,
My wooer he capered as he had been in drink,
And vow'd that I was his dear lassie.
I spar’d for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
And it she had recover'd her hearing
And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel'd feet,
Gade safe us as he fell a swearing
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.