3
They had na been a night in that bigly bowr,
’Tis not a night but barely ane,
Till there was Willie, her ain true-love,
Rappd at the door, and knew not the gin.
4
‘Whoe’s this, whoe’s this raps at my bowr-door,
Raps at my bowr-door, and knows not the gin?’
‘O it is Willie, thy ain true-love;
I pray thee rise and let me in.’