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　　The Braw Wooer

　　Tune—“The Lothian Lassie.”

　　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 liked 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 begged, 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. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns