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Poem	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 fellow, In poortith I might mak a fen; What care I in riches to wallow, If I maunna marry Tam Glen! There’s Lowrie the Laird o’ Dumeller— “Gude day to you, brute!” he comes ben: He brags and he blaws o’ his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen! My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o’ young men; They flatter, she says, to deceive me, But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen! My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him, He’d gie me gude hunder marks ten; But, if it’s ordain’d I maun take him, O wha will I get but Tam Glen! Yestreen at the Valentine’s dealing, My heart to my mou’ gied a sten’; For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written “Tam Glen”! The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken, His likeness came up the house staukin, And the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen! Come, counsel, dear Tittie, don’t tarry; I’ll gie ye my bonie black hen, Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.
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