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TAM GLEN.
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 fallow,
In poortith I might mak' a fen',
What care I in riches t o wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen.
There's Lowrie the Laird o' Drummiller,
Gude day to you, brute, he comes ben,
He brags an' he blaws o' his si ler,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?
My minnie does constantly deave me,
An' bids me beware o' young men;
They flatter, she ⟨says⟩, to deceive me;
But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?
My daddy says, gin I'll forsake him
He'll gie me guid hunder merks ten.
But if its ordain'd I maun tak' him
