Highland plaid (3)/The Braw Wooer

THE BRAW WOOER.

Ae day a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,
⁠And sair wi' his love he did deave me-
I said there was naething I hated like men,
⁠The deuce tak the lad to believe me, believe me.
⁠The deuce tak the lad to believe me.

He spak o' the darts o' my bonny black een,
⁠And vow'd for my love he was dying;
I said he might die when he liked, for Jean,
⁠The Lord forgie me for lying, for lying,
⁠The Lord forgie me for lying.

A weel-stocked maiden, himsel for the laird,
⁠And marriage aff-hand was his proffer;
I never loot on that I ken'd it or car'd,
⁠But thought I might get a waur offer, waur offer,
⁠But thought I might get a waur offer.

But what do ye think, in a fortnight or less,
⁠The deil tak his taste to gae near her!

He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess,
⁠Guess ye how, the jade! I could bear her, could bear her,
⁠Guess ye how, the jade! I could bear her.

But a' the neist ouk as I fretted wi' care,
⁠I gaed to the tryste o' Dalgarnock,
And wha but my braw fickle wooer was there,
⁠I glowr'd as if I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
⁠I glowr'd as if I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
⁠Lest neebors might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
⁠And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
⁠And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I speer'd for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet,
⁠Gin she had recover’d her hearin’,
And how my auld shoon fitted her shauchl’t feet,
⁠But preserve us! how he fell a swearin', a swearin',
⁠Preserve us! how he fell a swearin.

He begged for gudesake I wad be his wife,
⁠Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;
So just to preserve the puir body in life,
⁠I think I will wed him to-morrow, to-morrow.
⁠I think I will wed him to morrow.