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.