The Book of Scottish Song/The Deceiver

The Deceiver.

With tuneful pipe and hearty glee,
Young Watty wan my heart;
A blyther lad ye couldna see,
All beauty without art.
His winning tale
Did soon prevail
To gain my fond belief;
But soon the swain
Gangs o'er the plain,
And leaves me full, and leaves me full,
And leaves me full of grief.

Though Colin courts with tuneful sang,
Yet few regard his mane,
The lasses a' round Watty thrang,
While Colin's left alane:
In Aberdeen
Was never seen
A lad that gave sic pain;
He daily wooes,
And still pursues,
Till he does all, till he does all,
Till he does all obtain.

But soon as he has gain'd the bliss,
Away then does he run,
And hardly will afford a kiss,
To silly me undone:
Bonnie Katy,
Maggy, Beaty,
Avoid the roving swain,
His wyly tongue
Be sure to shun,
Or you like me, or you like me,
Like me will be undone.

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