O weel I mind the bonnie morn,
Richt early in the day,
When he cam’ in by oor toun end
To buy a sou o’ hay.

For O he was a handsome lad,
An’ weel did cock his beaver! –
He gar’t my heart play pit-a-pat:
Yet – speired but for my faither!

I turned aboot and gied a cast
That plainly said – ‘Ye deevil! –
Altho’ ye be a braw young lad
Ye needna be unceevil!’

He glower’t at me like ane gaen wud
Wi’ his daurin’ rovin’ een;
At that I leuch and wi’ a fling
Flew roun’ the bourtree screen.