22
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;
I darena think on Jamie, for that would be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gudewife to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind to me,
’Nae langer she wept---her tears were a spent---
Despair it was come, and she thought it content
She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale
And she dropp'd like a lily brokedown by the hair.
MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.
My love she's but a lassio yet,
My love she's but a lassie yet,
We'll let her stand an year or twa
She'll no be halt sae sancy yet,
I rue the day I sought her O
I rue the day I sought her O;
Wla gets her need na say he's woo'd,
But he may say he's bought her O
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet,
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet:
Gae seek for pleasure whare you will,
But here I never mist it yet.
We're a' dry wi' the drinking oʻt,
We're a dry wi' the drinking o't,
The minister kiss'd the fidler's wife,
And couldna preach for thinking oʻt.
O‘ER THE MOOR AMONG THE HEATHER.
COMIN thro the craigs o' Kyle,
