6
The deuce tak him to believe me believe me,
The deuce tak him to believe me.
He spak o‘ the darts o‘ my bonnie black een,
And vow’d for my love he was diein;
I said he might die when he liket for Jean,
The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein,
The Lord forgie me for liein!
A weel stocket mailen, himsel for the laird,
And marriage aff-hand was the proffer:
I never loot on that I kent it, or car‘d,
But thought I might get a waur offer, waur offer,
But thought I might get a waur offer.
But what do ye think? in a fortnight or less,
(The deil‘s in his taste to gang near her!)
He up the lang loan 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.
Sae at the niest week as I fretted wi' care,
I gaed to the tryst o‘ Dalgarnock,
And wha but my braw fickle wooer was there,
I glowr‘d as I‘d seen a warlock, a warlock,
I glowr‘d as I'd seen a warlock.
