Ha, ha, the wooing o't.
'Shall I, like a fool,' quoth he,
'For a naughty hizzie die? [hussy]
She may gae to--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 haill, [whole]
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! [such]
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 na be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; [smothered]
Now they're crouse and cantie baith! [lively, cheerful]
Ha, ha, the wooing o't.


DUNCAN DAVISON

There was a lass, they ca'd her Meg, [called]
And she held o'er the moors to spin;
There was a lad that follow'd her,