THE LASSIE'S COMPLAINT.
Now simmer cleeds the groves in green, An' decks the flow'ry brae; An' fain I'd wander out at e'en, But out I daurna gae. For there's a laddie down the gate Wha's like a ghaist to me; An' gin I meet him air or late, He winna lat me be.
He glow'rs like ony silly gowk, He ca's me heavenly fair. I bid him look like ither fowk, Nor fash me sae nae mair. I ca' him coof an' hav'rel too, An' frown wi' scornfu' ee. But a' I say, or a' I do, He winna lat me be.
James Kennedy.