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Ah na, laſs, l'll no gang there,
Nor about Jamie tak nae care,
Nor about Jamie tak nae care,
For be's ta'en up with Maggy.
For hark and I will tell you laſs,
Did I not ſee young Jamie paſs,
Wi' meikle blythneſ in his face,
Out o'er the moor to Maggy.
I wat he gave her mony a kiſs,
And Maggy took it ne'er amiſs,
Tween ilka ſmack pleas'd her wi' this,
That Beſs was but a gawkie.
For when e'er a ſingle kiſs I ſeek,
She returns her head and thraws her cheek,
And for an hour ſhe'll ſcarcely ſpeak,
Who'd not call her a gawkie?
But ſure my Maggy has more ſenſe,
She'll get a ſcore without offence,
Now gie me ane into the menſe,
And ye ſhall be my dawtie.
O Jamie ye hae mony ta’en
But I will ne'er ſtand up for ane,
Or twa, till we do meet again,
Sae ne'er think me a gawkie.
Ah na laſs, that cannot be,
Sick thought as theſe are far frae me,
Or ony thy ſweet face that ſee,
