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 20 I'm thinking, wi' sic a braw fellow, In poortith, I might mak' a fen'; What care I in riches to wallow, IF I dinna marry Tam Glen? There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller, 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'll gie me gude hundred marks ten: But if it's ordain'd I maun tak him, O wha will I get but Tam Glen? Yestreen at the Valentines dealing, My heart to my mou' gied a sten: For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written Tam Glen,