She opt the door, she let him in,
He cuist aside his dreepin' plaidie:
Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',
Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye.
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,
What care I for howlets' cry,
For boor-tree bank, or warlock craigie,
Tannahill.
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?
To anger them, &c.
I'm thinkin', 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.
What care I, &c.
There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller,
"Gude day to you," brute, he comes ben;
He brags an' he blaws o' his siller,
But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?
He brags, &c.
My minnie does constantly deave me,
An' bids me beware o' young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me;
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?
They flatter, &c.
