535. Song—The Braw Wooer

 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.

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