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I'm young and stout, my Marion.
Nane dances like me on the green;
And gin ye forsake me, Marion,
I'll e'en gae draw up wi' Jean.
Sae put on your parlins, Marion,
And kyrtle o' the cramasie;
And soon as my chin has nae hair on,
I shall come west and see ye.
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TAM GLEN,
Words by BURNS. Air--" Tam Glen." Key-note E minor.
My heart is a breaking, dear tittie.
Some counsel unto me come len';
To anger them a' is a pity,
But what will I do wi' Tam Glen ?
I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak' a fen';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I maunna marry Tam Gien ?
There's Lowrie the laird o' Drumeller,
Gude day to you, brute, he comes ben;
He brags and he blaws o' his siller,
But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?
My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o' young men ;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me-
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?
My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,
He'll gie me gude hunder merks ten;
But if it's ordained I maun tak' him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
Yestreen at the valentines dealin',
My heart to my mou' gied a sten;
For thrice I drew ane without failin',
And thrice it was written-Tam Glen.
The last Hallowe'en I was waukin'
My drookit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;
His likeness cam up the house staukin',
And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen,
Come, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry;
I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.
