Page:Sprig of shilela, &c..pdf/7

 I'm thinking wi’ sic a braw fallow,

In portith I might make a fen’,

What care I in riches to wallow,

If I mauna marry Tam Glen?

What care I, &c.

I There’s Lowrie the laird of Drummiller,

Guide day to you brute, he comes ben,

He brags and he blaws o’ his siller:

But when will he dance like Tam Glen?

My minnie does constantly deave me,

An’ bids me beware of young men;

They flatter, she says, to deceive me,

But wha can think sae of Tam Glen?

They flatter, &c.

My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him,

He’ll gie me guide hundred marks ten:

But if its ordain’d I maun take him,

O wha will I get but Tam Glen.

Yesereern at the valentines dealin’

My heart to my mou’ gied a sten’,

'For thrice I drew, and without failin’,

And thrice it was written, Tam Glen.

For thrice, &c.

The last hallowe’en I was waukin,

My droukit sark sleeve as ye ken;

His likeness came up the house staukin’.

An’ the very grey breeks o’ Tam Glen.