Sic tales, I doubt, are a deceit;
At any rate, it’s hardly meet
To pree their sweets afore folk.
But, gin you really do insist
That I should suffer to be kissed,
Gae get a license frae the priest,
And mak’ me yours afore folk;
Behave yourself afore folk,
And when we’re ane, baith flesh and bane,
Ye may tak’ ten afore folk.