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;