"O Guid forbid," said fair Annie,
"That e'er the like fa' in my hand;50
Wou'd I forsake my ain gude lord,
And follow you, a gae-through-land?
"Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas,
Ye'll drink a cup o' wine wi' me;
And nine times in the live lang day,55
Your fair claithing shall changed be."
Fair Annie pat it till her cheek,
Sae did she till her milk-white chin,
Sae did she till her flattering lips,
But never a drap o' wine gaed in.60
Tamas pat it till his cheek,
Sae did he till his dimpled chin;
He pat it till his rosy lips,
And then the well o' wine gaed in.
"These pains," said he, "are ill to bide;65
Here is the day that I maun die;
O take this cup frae me, Annie,
For o' the same I am weary."
"And sae was I, o' you, Tamas,
When I was hunted to the sea;70
But I'se gar bury you in state,
Which is mair than ye'd done to me."
JOHN THOMSON AND THE TURK.
From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. ix. The same in Buchan's collection, ii. 159.