Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/554

536

" Doctor, be clever, an' fling aff your beaver,

Come, bleed me an' blister me, dinna be slow;

I'm sick, I'm exhausted, my prospects are blasted,

An' a' driven heels o'er head, Doctor Munroe!"

"Be patient, dear fellow, you foster your fever;

Pray, what's the misfortune that troubles you so?"

"O, Doctor! I'm ruin'd, I'm ruin'd for ever—

My lass has forsaken me, Doctor Munroe!

"I meant to have married, an' tasted the pleasures,

The sweets, the enjoyments from wedlock that flow:

But she's ta'en another, an' broken my measures,

An' fairly dumfounder'd me, Doctor Munroe!