3
He’s ta’en her in his arms twa,
And kist her cheek and chin;
“I wad gi’e a’ my flocks and herds
Ae smille frae thee to win!”
“A smile frae me ye’se never win;
I’ll ne’er look kind on thee;
Ye’ve stown me awa’ frae a’ my kin’,
Frae a’ that’s dear to me.
“Dundee, kind sir, Dundee, kind sir,
Tak’ me to bonnie Dundee;
For ye sail ne’er my favour win
Till it ance mair I see.”
“Dundee, Baby! Dundee, Baby!
Dundee ye ne’er shall see;
But I will carry you to Glenlyon,
Where you my bride shall be.
“Or will you stay at Auchingour,
And eat sweet milk and cheese;
Or gang wi’ me to Glenlyon,
And there we’ll live at our ease?”
“I winna stay at Auchingour;
I care neither for milk nor cheese;
Nor gang wi’ thee to Glenlyon;
For there I’ll ne’er find ease?”
Then out it spak’ his brother John,—
“If I were in your place,
I’d send that lady hame again,
For a’ her bonnie face.
