Page:The Pocket Songster.djvu/12

 She opt the door, she let him in,

He cuist aside his dreepin' plaidie:

Blaw your warst, ye rain and win',

Since, Maggie, now I'm in aside ye.

Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,

Now since ye're wauken, Maggie,

What care I for howlets' cry,

For boor-tree bank, or warlock craigie,

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?

To anger them, &c.

I'm thinkin', wi' sic a braw fallow,

In poortith I might mak a fen';

What care I in riches to wallow,

If I mauna marry Tam Glen.

What care I, &c.

There's Lowrie, the laird o' Drumeller,

"Gude day to you," brute, he comes ben;

He brags an' he blaws o' his siller,

But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?

He brags, &c.

My minnie does constantly deave me,

An' bids me beware o' young men;

They flatter, she says, to deceive me;

But wha can think sae o' Tam Glen?

They flatter, &c.