the braw wooer

  tune—“the lothian lassie.”

  last may, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen,

  and sair wi' his love he did deave me;

  i said, there was naething i hated like men—

  the deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me;

  the deuce gae wi'm to believe me.

  he spak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en,

  and vow'd for my love he was diein,

  i said, he might die when he liked for jean—

  the lord forgie me for liein, for liein;

  the lord forgie me for liein!

  a weel-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird,

  and marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;

  i never loot on that i kenn'd it, or car'd;

  but thought i might hae waur offers, waur offers;

  but thought i might hae waur offers.

  but what wad ye think?—in a fortnight or less—

  the deil tak his taste to gae near her!

  he up the gate-slack to my black cousin, bess—

  guess ye how, the jad! i could bear her, could bear her;

  guess ye how, the jad! i could bear her.

  but a' the niest week, as i petted wi' care,

  i gaed to the tryst o' dalgarnock;

  but wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,

  i glowr'd as i'd seen a warlock, a warlock,

  i glowr'd as i'd seen a warlock.

  but owre my left shouther i gae him a blink,

  lest neibours might say i was saucy;

  my wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,

  and vow'd i was his dear lassie, dear lassie,

  and vow'd i was his dear lassie.

  i spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,

  gin she had recover'd her he