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Her een sae bonny blue, betrayHow she repay my passion;But prudence is her o'erword ay,She talks o' rank and fashion.O why should fate, &c.
O wha can prudence think upon,Wi' sic a lassie by him?O wha can prudence think upon,And sae in love as I am?O why should fate, &c.
How blest the humble cotter's fate,He wooes his simple dearie;The silly bogles, wealth and state,Can never mak him eerie.Then why should fate sic pleasure have,Love's dearest band untwining?Or sic a tender flower an loveDepend on fortune's shining.
The falsehearted young Man.
As I went out for my recreation,I heard a fair maid making sad lamentation,The fairest young creature that e'er I could discover,And thus she laments for the loss of her lover:I once had a true love, but now I'm forsaken,And he has left me in grief and sad vexation;No ease in my mind have I found, since my jewelHe has slighted my passion, and to me proves cruel.My love he was both lightly and sprightly,Ten thousand time he strove to delight me,Till I, silly maiden, resign'd up my treasure,To gratify a false-hearted young man's pleasure.
