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There's mony bra' Jockies and Jennies,
comes weel buskit into the fair,
Wi ribbons on their cockemonies,
and south o’ bra' flour in their hair;
Maggy, sae brawlie was buskit,
when Jockie was ty'd to his bride,
pownie was ne'er better whisket,
wi' a cudgel that hung by his side.
Sing fal de ral, fa de.

But Willie the muirland laddie,
was mounted on a gray cowt,
Wi' his sword by his side like a cadie,
to ca' in the sheep and the nowt:
Sae nicely his doublets did fit him,
they scarcely cam down to mid-thie,
Wi' weel powder'd hair, hat and feather,
wi’ houzen, curple and (illegible text)ie.
Sing fal de ral, la de.

But Maggie grew wondrous jealous,
to see Willie baskit to bra',