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Sae put on your pearlins Marion,
And kyrtle of the cramasie!
And soon as my chin has nae hair on
I shall come west and see thee.
THE BUSH A BOON TRAQUAIR.
Hear me, ye nymphs, and ev‘ry swain,
I‘ll tell how Peggy grieves me;
Though thus I languish and complain,
Alas! she ne'er believes me.
My vows and sighs, like silent air,
Unheeded never move her.
At the bonny bush aboon Traquair,
‘Twas there i first did love her.
That day she smil’d and made me glad,
No maid seem'd ever kinder;
I thought myself the luckiest lad,
So sweetly there to find her.
I try'd to soothe my amrous flame,
In words that l thought tender;
If more there pass'd l‘m not to blame,
I maent not to offend her.
Yet now she scornful flies the plain.
