4
But woman is but warld’s gear,
Sae let the bonnie lass gang.
Whae’er ye be that woman love
To this be never blind,
Nae ferlie ’tis tho’ fickle she prove,
A woman has’t by kind:
O woman lovely, woman fair!
An angel form’s faun to thy share,
’Twad been o’er meikle to gien thee mair,
I mean an angel mind.
TAM GLEN.
My heart is a-breaking, dear tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len’;
To anger them a’ is a pity,
But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen;
I’m thinking wi’ sic a braw fallow,
In poortith I might mak a fen’;
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen.
There’s Lowrie, the laird o’ Drummeller,
“Gude-day to you,” brute, he comes ben;
He brags, and he blaws o’ his siller,
But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?
My minnie dues constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o’ young men;
