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Poem	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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