| Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875. |
| |
| R. Burns |
| |
| CLIII. 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 coost her head fu' high, | 5 |
| Look'd asklent and unco skeigh, | |
| Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh; | |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't! | |
| |
| Duncan fleech'd and Duncan pray'd | |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't; | 10 |
| 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 and blin', | |
| Spak o' lowpin ower a linn! | 15 |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't! | |
| |
| 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: | 20 |
| Shall I, like a fool, quoth he, | |
| For a haughty hizzie dee? | |
| She may gae to—France for me! | |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't! | |
| |
| How it comes let doctors tell, | 25 |
| 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! | 30 |
| And oh, her een, they spak sic things! | |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't! | |
| |
| Duncan was a lad o' grace, | |
| Ha, ha, the wooing o't; | |
| Maggie's was a piteous case, | 35 |
| 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! | 40 |
| |
|
|
