(3)
But Willie’s wife is nae sae trig,
She dights her grunzic wi’ a hushion:
Her wallie nieves like midden-creels,
Her face wad syle the Logan-water;
Sie a wife as Willie had,
I wad na gie a button for her.
Henry’s Cottage Maid.
AH where can I fly my soul’s true love,
Sad I wander this long grove,
Sighs and tears for him I shed,
Henry is from Laura fled,
Thy love to me thou didst impart,
Thy love soon won my virgin heart,
But, dearest Henry, thou’ft betray’d
Thy love with thy poor cottage maid.
Thro’ the vale my grief appears,
Sighing sad with pearly tears:
Oft thy image is my theme,
As I wander on the green:
See, my cheek the colour flies
And love’s sweet hope within me dies;
for oh! my dear Henry, thou’st betrayed
Thy love with thy dear cottage maid.
