Page:Jolly beggar (5).pdf/8

 But O she’s an heiress, auld Robin’s a

laird,

And my daddie has nought but a cot-

house and yard;

A wooer like mauna hope to come speed,

The wounds I must lide that will soon

be my dead.

The day comes to me, but delight brings

me nane;  (is gane;

The night comes to me, but my rest it

I wander my lane like a night-troubled

ghaist,         (my breast.

And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in

O, had she but been of lower degree,

I then might hae hop‘d she wad smile

upon me!

O how past descriving had then been

my bliss,        [press.

As now my distraction no words can ex-