Wha comes creepin' to kep wi' me.
Aye! she'd sort him, for, dod, she's fell!
Whisht nou, Jimmie, an' hide yersel'
An' the wice-like bird i' the aipple-tree
He winna' tell!

Aprile-month, or the aipples flower,
Tib, my auntie, will rage an' ca';
Jimmie lad, she may rin an' glower--
What care I? We'll be far awa'!
Let her seek me the leelang day,
Wha's to tell her the road we'll gae?
For the cannie Gowk, tho' he kens it a',
He winna' say!




THE JACOBITE LASS


My love stood at the loanin' side
An' held me by the hand,
The bonniest lad that e'er did bide
In a' this waefu' land--
There's but ae bonnier to be seen
Frae Pentland to the sea,
And for his sake but yestre'en
I sent my love frae me.