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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' heigh,
     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,
     Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig,
     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;
     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:
     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,
     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:
     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,
     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.

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