How oft have I fed on your bread and your cheese,
Likewise when you had but a handful of pease,
Your cruel-hearted father hound at me his dogs,
They tore my bare heels, and rave all my rags.
Is this my dear Sandy whom I loved so dear?
I have not heard of you this many a year;
When all the rest went to bed, sleep was frae me,
For thinking what was become of thee.
My parents were born lang before me,
Perhaps by this time they are drowned in the sea,
These lands and possessions they left them to me,
And I came for thee, jewel, to share them with thee.
In love we began, and in love we will end.
And in joy and mirth our days we will spend;
And a voyage to your father once more we will go,
And relieve the old farmer from his trouble and woe.
With men and maid-servants to wait them upon,
Away to her father in a chaise they are gone;
The laddie wont foremost— the brave Highland loom,
Till they came to the road that leads to the town.
When he came to the gate be gave a loud roar,—
Come down gentle farmer, Catherine’s at your door.
When he looked out at the wiudow he saw his daughter’s face,
With his hat in his hand he made a great phrase.
Keep on your ⟨hat⟩, ⟨farmer⟩, don’t let it fa’,
For it sets not the peacock to bow to the crow.
It’s hold your tongue, Sandy, and do not ⟨taunt⟩ me,
For my daughter’s not worthy your bride for to be.
