In simmer when the hay was mawn,
    And corn wav'd green on ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
    And roses blaw in ilka bield
    Blythe Bessie in the milking shield
Says, I'll be wed come o't what will:
    Out spak a dame in wrinkled eild,
O' gude advisement comes nae ill.

Its ye ha'e wooers mony ane,
    And, lassie, ye're but young, ye ken,
Then wait a wee, and cannie wale
    [A routhie butt, a routhie ben.]1
    There's Johnie o' the Buskie-glen,
Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre.
    Tak this frae me, my bonnie hen,
Its plenty heets the luver's fire :2

" For Johnie o' the Buskie-Glen
I dinua care a single flie :
He lo'es sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae love to spare for me.
But blythe 's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he lo'es me dear:
Ae blink o' him I wad na gie
For Buskie-Glen and a' his gear."

" O thoughtless lassie, life 's a faught !
The canniest gate, the strife is sair.
But ay fu'-han't is fechtin best:
A hungry care 's an unco care.
But some will spend, and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will.
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair.
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill !"

O! gear will buy me rigs o' land,
    And gear will buy me sheep and kye;
But the tender heart o' leesome loove,
    The gowd and siller canna buy.
    We may be poor, Robie and I,
Light is the burden loove lays on;
    Content and loove brings peace and joy;
What mair hae queens upon a throne?