Page:Robert Burn's (sic) song-book.pdf/22

 I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;

I darena think on Jamie, for that would be a sin;

But I'll do my best a gudewife to be,

For auld Robin Gray is kind to me,

’Nae langer she wept---her tears were a spent---

Despair it was come, and she thought it content

She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale

And she dropp'd like a lily brokedown by the hair.

My love she's but a lassio yet,

My love she's but a lassie yet,

We'll let her stand an year or twa

She'll no be halt sae sancy yet,

I rue the day I sought her O

I rue the day I sought her O;

Wla gets her need na say he's woo'd,

But he may say he's bought her O

Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet,

Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet:

Gae seek for pleasure whare you will,

But here I never mist it yet.

We're a' dry wi' the drinking oʻt,

We're a dry wi' the drinking o't,

The minister kiss'd the fidler's wife,

And couldna preach for thinking oʻt.

COMIN thro the craigs o' Kyle,

Amang the bonny blooming heathar,