An’ the blush o’ the rose fled awa’ frae her cheek.
But she said, “Gang awa’, man, your heid’s in a creel.”
She didna let on that she liked him rale weel—
Oh, she liked him rale weel,
Aye, she liked him rale weel,
But she didna let on that she liked him rale weel.
Then Jock says, “Oh, Jenny, for a twalmonth an’ mair,
Ye ha’e kept me just hangin’ twixt hope an’ despair,
But oh, Jenny, last night something whispered tae me
That I’d better lie doon at the dyke-side and dee.”