5
They flatter, she says, to deceive me;
But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen?
My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him,
He’ll gie me good hundred marks ten;
But if it’s ordain’d I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
Yestreen at the valentines dealing,
My heart to my mou’ gied a sten,
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, Tam Glen.
The last hallowe’en I was waukin’,
My droukit sark-sleeve, as you ken,
His likeness cam up the house staukin’,
And the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen.
Come counsel, dear tittie, don’t tarry;
I’ll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif you will advise me to marry
The lad I loo dearly, Tam Glen.
THE BOSOM OF LOVE.
Tune—The Woodpecker.
How sweet to recline on the bosom we love,
And breathe all our cares in her innocent ear,
And when the soft passion her kind heart doth move,
How precious now glisters the soft falling tear:
