Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake

Robert Burns (1759–1796)

Duncan Gray

DUNCAN GRAY came 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,

Looked asklent and unco skeigh,

Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;

Ha, ha, the wooing o’ t.

Duncan fleeched, and Duncan prayed;

Ha, ha, &c.

Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,

Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan sighed baith out and in,

Grat his een baith bleer’t and blin’,

Spak o’ lowpin o’er a linn;

Ha, ha, &c.

Time and chance are but a tide,

Ha, ha, &c.

Slighted love is sair to bide,

Ha, ha, &c.

Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,

For a haughty hizzie dee?

She may gae to—France for me!

Ha, ha, &c.

How it comes let doctors tell,

Ha, ha, &c.

Meg grew sick—as he grew hale,

Ha, ha, &c.

Something in her bosom wrings,

For relief a sigh she brings;

And O, her een, they spak sic things!

Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan was a lad o’ grace,

Ha, ha, &c.

Maggie’s was a piteous case,

Ha, ha, &c.

Duncan couldna be her death,

Swelling pity smoor’d his wrath;

Now they ’re crouse and cantie baith,

Ha, ha, the wooing o ’t.