Page:Lewie Gordon (1).pdf/4

4 Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's;

The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause

Of a' my grief and pain, jo.

O let me in, &c.

HER ANSWER.

O na me of the wind and rain,

Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain!

Gae back the gate ye cam again,

I winna let you in, jo.

I tell you now this ae night,

This ae, ae, ae night;

And ance for a' this ae night,

I winna let you in, jo.

The nellest blast, at mirkest hours,

That round the pathless wand'rer pou

Is nought to what poor she endures,

That's trusted faithless man, jo.

I tell you now, &c.

The sweetest flower that deck'd the me

Now trodden like the vilest weed;

Let simple maid the read,

The weird may be her ain, jo.

I tell you now, &c.