4
But thoughts o’ my dearest lass Annie,
The wearisome hours did beguile.
The happy, wae night that we parted,
She vow’d she would constant remain;
My heart-strings a’ dirl’d wi’ fondness!
I kiss, and I kiss’d her again.
‘Tis no cause her cheeks are like roses,
Nor yet for her dark rollin’ e’e,
Tis no for her sweet comely features.
These charms are naething to me.
The storms of life may soon blast them,
Or sickness make them fade away,
But virtue, when fix’d in the bosom,
Will flourish, and never decay.
Nae langer I’ll spend a’ my siller,
Nae langer I’ll now ly my lane;
Nae langer I’ll hunt'after hizzies,
I’ll soon ha'e a wife o’ my ain.
For mony wild foot I ha’e wander’d
And mony lang night spent in vain,
Wi’ drinkin’ and dancin’, and courtin’,
But I’ll soon hae a wife o’ my ain.
Her mither’s ay flytiu’, and roarin’,
" I red you tak tent o’ that chiel;
He’ll no be that canny to live wi’
He’ll ne’er be like douse Geordy Steel.
He's courted wi'o’er mony lasses;
To slight them he thinks it gude fun;
