Song—The Braw Wooer

Last May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen,
  And sair wi' his love he did deave me;
I said, there was naething I hated like men—
  The deuce gae wi'm, to believe me, believe me;
  The deuce gae wi'm to believe me.

He spak o' the darts in my bonie black e'en,
  And vow'd for my love he was diein,
I said, he might die when he likèd for Jean—
  The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein;
  The Lord forgie me for liein!

A weel-stocked mailen, himsel' for the laird,
  And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers;
I never loot on that I kenn'd it, or car'd;
  But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers;
  But thought I might hae waur offers.

But what wad ye think?—in a fortnight or less—
  The deil tak his taste to gae near her!
He up the Gate-slack to my black cousin, Bess—
  Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her;
  Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her.

But a' the niest week, as I petted wi' care,
  I gaed to the tryst o' Dalgarnock;
But wha but my fine fickle wooer was there,
  I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock, a warlock,
  I glowr'd as I'd seen a warlock.

But owre my left shouther I gae him a blink,
  Lest neibours might say I was saucy;
My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink,
  And vow'd I was his dear lassie, dear lassie,
  And vow'd I was his dear lassie.

I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
  Gin she had recover'd her hearin',
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
  But heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin,
  But heavens! how he fell a swearin.

He beggèd, for gudesake, I wad be his wife,
  Or else I wad kill him wi' sorrow;
So e'en to preserve the poor body in life,
  I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow;
  I think I maun wed him to-morrow.
Song—The Braw Wooer

by Robert Burns, 1795
