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O Logie o’ Buchan, O Logie the laird, They hae taen awa Jamie that delv’d in the yard, Wha play’d on the pipe wi’ the viol sae sma’, They hae taen awa Jamie, the flower o’ them a’.

He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa, He said, think na lang lassie, though I gang awa; For the simmer is coming, cauld winter’s awa, And I’ll come and see thee in spite o’ them a’.

O Sandy has owsen, and siller, and kye, A house and a hadden, and a’ things forbye; But I wad hae Jamie wi’ his staff in his hand, Before I’d hae Sandy wi’ houses and lands. He said, think na laug, &c.

My daddie looks sulky, my minnie looks sour, They frown upon Jamie because he is poor; But daddie and minnie, although that they be, There’s nane o’ them like my Jamie to me

I sit on my creepie, and spin at my wheel, And think on the laddie that loed me sae weel: He had but ae sixpence, he brake it in twa, And he gied me the hauf o’t when he gaed awa.

Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa, Then haste ye back, Jamie, and bide na awa: The simmer is coming, cauld winter’s awa, And ye’ll come and see me, in spite o’ them a’.