Page:Robin Aboon (3).pdf/5

 Since it has been my prosp'rous lot.
 * I wish her no more of ill,

I have got all the money she had,
 * let her die bow as soon as she will.

O steer her up and had her gaw'n
 * her mither's at the mill, jo;

But gin she winna tak a man,
 * e'en her let tak ho will, jo.

Play thee, lad leave silly thinking
 * cast thy cares of love away:

Let our sorrows drown in drinking,
 * 'is duffin' langer to delay;

See that shining glass of claret,
 * how invitingly it looks;

Tak it aff and let's hae mair o't.
 * pox on fighting, trade, and hooks.

Leo's ha'e pleasure while we're able,
 * Brig us in the meikle bowl,

lao't on the middle of the table,
 * and let wind and weather gowl.