DUNCAN GRAY.
[This Duncan Gray of Burns, has nothing in common with the wild old song of that name, save the first line, and a part of the third, neither has it any share in the sentiments of an earlier strain, with the same title, by the same hand. It was written for the work of Thomson.]
I.
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’ high,
Look’d asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
II.
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 een baith bleer’t and blin’,
Spak o’ lowpin o’er a linn;
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
III.
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.
IV.
How it comes let doctors tell,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t;
Meg grew sick—as he grew heal,
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
Something in her bosom wrings,
For relief a sigh she brings:
And O, her een, they spak sic things!
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t.
V.
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.