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8 He spake o' the darts o' my bonny black een,

An' how for my love he was dien';

I said he might die when he liket for Jean,

The guide forgi'e me for lien'!

But what do ye think in a fortnight or less,

(The diel's in his taste to gae near her),

He's down the lang glen to my black cousin Bess,

Guess ye how the jade I could bear her!

Sae a' the neist owk as I fretted wi care,

I gaed to the tryst o' Dulgarlock;

An' wha but my braw fickle wooer was there,

Wha glowr'd as if he'd seen a warlock.

Out o'er my left shouther I gied him a blink,

Lest neibours shou'd think I was saucy;

My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,

An' vow'd that I was a dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthie an' sweet,

It she had recover'd her hearin;

And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel'd feet,

Gude safe us! how he fell a swearin.

He begg'd me for Gudesake! that I'd be his wife

Or else I wad kill him with sorrow;

Sae preserve the poor body in life,

I think I shall wed him to-morrow.