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 Ye look as spruth as ane that's wooing,

fer ye lad what ye've been doing.

Jouk My very much respected brither,

Should we hide ought tras ang abither!

And not, when warm'd by the lime blood,

Consult ilk ane anither's good;

Bod be it kend t'ye; my design,

Will profit prove to me and mine

Bris. Ana brither, troth it much commends

Your virtue thus to love your friends,

It maks me blyth, for alt I said,

Ye were a clever mettl'd lad.

Jouk. And sae I hope will ever prove,

If ye befriend me in my love;

For Rosie bonny rich and gay,

And sweet as flowers in June and May;

Her gear I'll get, nor sweets I'll rifle,

If you but yield me up a trifle.

Promile to do't and ye's be free

With ony thing pertains to be.

Bris. I lang to answer your demand,

And never shall for trifles stand

Jouk. Then the disires as a z propine,

Theese Bonnets, Bawsy's yours and mile,

And well I wat, that's nae great matter;

If I sae easily can get her.

Bris. Ha, ha! se Judas, are ye there?

The D——el then nor the ne'er get mair,

Is that the trifle that ye spoke of?

Wha think ye Sir, ye mak a mock of?

Ye ailly, manaworn, acant o' grace,

Swith, let me never see your face,