Whar love ’mang sunny smiles might beek,
Yet howlet-like my eelids steek,
And shun sic light before folk?
Can I behave, can I behave,
Can I behave before folk,
When ilka smile becomes a wile,
Enticing me before folk?
That lip, like Eve’s forbidden fruit,
Sweet, plump an’ ripe, sae tempts me to ’t,
That I maun pree’t though I should rue’t,