MY sweetest May, let love incline thee,
T’ accept a heart which he designs thee;
And as your constant slave, regard it,
Syne for its faithfulness reward it,
‘Tis proof-a-shot to birth or money,
But yields to what is sweet and bony;
Receive it then with a kiss and a smily,
There’s my thumb it will ne’er beguile ye.
How tempting sweet these lips of thine are,
Thy bosom white, and legs sae fine are,
That when in pools I see thee clean ‘em;
They carry away my heart between ‘em.
I wish, and I wish, while it gaes duntin,
O gin I had thee on a mountain,
Tho’ kith and kin and a’ shou’d revile thee,
There’s my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.
Alane through flow’ry hows I dander,
Tenting my flocks left they shou’d wander,
Gin thou’ll gae alang, I’’ll dawt thee gaylie,
And gi’e my thumb I’ll ne’er beguile thee.
O my dear lassie, it is but daffin,
To had thy woer up ay niff naffin.
That na, na, na, I hate it most vilely,
O say, yes, and I’ll ne’er beguile thee.