Robert Burns: A play

by John Drinkwater

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.

Time and chance are but a tide;

Ha, ha, the wooing o’t;

Slighted love is sair to bide;