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I'm young and stout, my Marion.

Nane dances like me on the green;

And gin ye forsake me, Marion,

I'll e'en gae draw up wi' Jean.

Sae put on your parlins, Marion,

And kyrtle o' the cramasie;

And soon as my chin has nae hair on,

I shall come west and see ye.

TAM GLEN,

Words by BURNS. Air--" Tam Glen." Key-note E minor.

My heart is a breaking, dear tittie.

Some counsel unto me come len';

To anger them a' is a pity,

But what will I do wi' Tam Glen ?

I'm thinking wi' sic a braw fellow,

In poortith I might mak' a fen';

What care I in riches to wallow,

If I maunna marry Tam Gien ?

There's Lowrie the laird o' Drumeller,

Gude day to you, brute, he comes ben;

He brags and he blaws o' his siller,

But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie does constantly deave me,

And bids me beware o' young men ;

They flatter, she says, to deceive me-

But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

My daddie says, gin I'll forsake him,

He'll gie me gude hunder merks ten;

But if it's ordained I maun tak' him,

O wha will I get but Tam Glen?

Yestreen at the valentines dealin',

My heart to my mou' gied a sten;

For thrice I drew ane without failin',

And thrice it was written-Tam Glen.

The last Hallowe'en I was waukin'

My drookit sark-sleeve, as ye ken;

His likeness cam up the house staukin',

And the very grey breeks o' Tam Glen,

Come, counsel, dear tittie, don't tarry;

I'll gie you my bonnie black hen,

Gif ye will advise me to marry

The lad I lo'e dearly, Tam Glen.