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But oh! the fickle, faithless quean,
She's ta'en the carle, and left her Johnny.

O she was a canty quean,
An' weel cou'd dance a Highlan' walloch;
How happy I, had she been mine,
Or I'd been Roy of Aldivalloch.

Her face sae fair, her een sae clear,
Her wee bit mou sae sweet and bonny,
To me she ever will be dear,
Tho' she's for ever left her Johnny.

 

A young Kintra Laird's courtship.

Now, Jenny lass, my bonny bird,
My daddy's dead, and a' that,
He's snugly laid aneath the yird,
An' I'm his heir, an' a' that,
An' a' that, an' a' that,
I'm now a laird, an' a' that,
His gear an' lan's at my command,
An' muckle mair than a' that.

He left me wi' his dying breath,
A dwallin'-house, an' a' that,
A byre, a barn, an' wabs o' claith,
A big peat-stack, an' a' that.