| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
Duncan Gray cam here to woo
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
On blythe Yule night when we were fu'
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Maggie coost her head fu' high
Look'd asklent and unco skiegh
Gart poor Duncan stand abiegh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
|
Time and Chance are but a tide
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Slighted love is sair to bide
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he
For a haughty hizzie die?
She may gae to - France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
|
How it comes let Doctors tell
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Meg grew sick as he grew heal
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Something in her bosom wrings
For a relief a sigh she brings;
And O ! her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
|
Duncan was a lad o' grace
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Maggie's was a piteous case
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Duncan could na be her death
Swelling Pity smoor'd his Wrath;
Now they're crouse and canty baith
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
|
|
|
|
