392. Song—Poortith cauld and restless love

 O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
 Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a’ I could forgive,
 An ’twere na for my Jeanie.



Chorus.
—O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
 Life’s dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
 Depend on Fortune’s shining?


The warld’s wealth, when I think on,
 It’s pride and a’ the lave o’t;
O fie on silly coward man,
 That he should be the slave o’t!
 O why, &c.



Her e’en, sae bonie blue, betray
 How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her o’erword aye,
 She talks o’ rank and fashion.

 O why, &c.



O wha can prudence think upon,
 And sic a lassie by him?
O wha can prudence think upon,
 And sae in love as I am?
 O why, &c.



How blest the simple cotter’s fate!
 He woos his artless dearie;
The silly bogles, wealth and state,
 Can never make him eerie,
 O why, &c.

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