Duncan Gray

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 coosther head fu’heigh,
Look’d asklentand uncoskeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

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,
Grathis e’enbaithblear’t an’blin’,
Spak o’ lowpin o’er a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

Time and Chance are buta tide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t,
Slighted love is sairto bide,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t:
Shall I like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizziedie?
She may gaeto-France for me!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

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 oh! her eenthey spaksicthings!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.

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 nabe her death,
Swelling Pity smoor’dhis wrath;
Now they’re crouseand canty baith,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.