The Braw Wooer

by Robert Burns

Last May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen,

  And sair wi’ his love he did deave me;

I said, there was naething I hated like men—

  The deuce gae wi’m, to believe me, believe me;

  The deuce gae wi’m to believe me.

He spak o’ the darts in my bonie black e’en,

  And vow’d for my love he was diein,

I said, he might die when he likèd for Jean—

  The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein;

  The Lord forgie me for liein!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel’ for the laird,

  And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;

I never loot on that I kenn’d it, or car’d;

  But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers;

  But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think?—in a fortnight or less—

  The deil tak his taste to gae near her!

He up the Gate-slack 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.

But a’ the niest week, as I petted wi’ care,

  I gaed to the tryst o’ Dalgarnock;

But wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,

  I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock,

 I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,

  Lest neibours might say I was saucy;

My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink,

  And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,

  And vow’d I was his dear lassie.

I spier’d for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet,

  Gin she had recover’d her hearin’,

And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl’t feet,

  But heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,

  But heavens! how he fell a swearin.

He beggèd, for gudesake, I wad be his wife,

  Or else I wad kill him wi’ sorrow;

So e’en to preserve the poor body in life,

  I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow;

  I think I maun wed him to-morrow.