The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
215
DUNCAN GRAY
I
Duncan Gray cam here to woo(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!)
On blythe Yule-Night when we were fou
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
II
Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),
Meg was deaf as Ailsa craig
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer't an' blin',
Spak o' lowpin o'er a linn—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
III
Time and Chance are but a tide(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Slighted love is sair to bide
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
216
‘For a haughty hizzie die?
She may gae to—France for me!’—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
IV
How it comes, let doctors tell(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Meg grew sick, as he grew hale
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!).
Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings,
And O! her een they spak sic things!—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
V
Duncan was a lad o' grace(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!),
Maggie's was a piteous case
(Ha, ha, the wooing o't!):
Duncan could na be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and canty baith—
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||