Sung by Jenny and Roger, p. 47.
WEre I assur’d you’ll constant prove,
You should nae mair complain,
The easy maid beset with love,
Few words will quickly gain;
For I must own, now since you’re free,
This too fond heart of mine
Has lang, a black-sole true to thee,
Wish’d to be pair’d with thine.
I’m happy now, ah! let my head
Upon thy breast recline;
The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead!
Is Jenny then sae kind? –
O let me briss thee to my heart!
And round my arms entwine:
Delytful thought; we’ll never part!
Come press thy mouth to mine.