William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909. Duncan Gray By Robert Burns (1759–1796)
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’ heigh, 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, 1 Ha, ha, the wooing o’t: Duncan sigh’d baith out and in, Grat his e’en baith blear’t an’ blin’, Spak o’ lowpin o’er 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 die? 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
Note 1. Ailsa craig: a rocky islet in the Firth of Clyde, opposite Ayr, much frequented by sea-fowl, whose screaming it had endured without remonstrance. (Centenary Ed. of The Poetry of Burns. ) [back ]
