"What ails ye, bonny mower,
You sit so mournfully?"
"Alas! what ails me, Nancibel?
'Tis all the love of thee."
"Now laugh and quaff, my bonny lad,
And think no more o' me.
My lover is a finer man
Than any twain o' ye.
"He's bought for me a kirtle,
He's bought for me a coat,