BESS, THE GAWKIE.
Tune—"Bess, the Gawkie."
Blythe young Bess to Jean did say,
Will ye gang to yon sunny brae,
Where flocks do feed, and herds do stray,
And sport a while wi' Jamie?
Ah, na, lass, I 'll no gang there,
Nor about Jamie tak' a care,
Nor about Jamie tak' a care,
For he 's ta'en up wi' Maggie.
For hark, and I will tell you, lass,
Did I not see young Jamie pass,
Wi' mickle blytheness in his face,
Out ower the muir to Maggie.
I wat he gae her mony a kiss,
And Maggie took them nae amiss;
'Tween ilka smack pleased her wi' this,
That Bess was but a gawkie.
For when a civil kiss I seek,
She turns her head, and thraws her cheek,
And for an hour she 'll hardly speak;
Wha 'd no ca' her a gawkie?
But sure my Maggie has mair sense,
She 'll gie a score without offence;
Now gie me ane into the mense,
And ye shall be my dawtie.
O Jamie, ye hae monie ta'en,
But I will never stand for ane
Or twa when we do meet again;
So ne'er think me a gawkie.
Ah, na, lass, that canna be;
Sic thoughts as thae are far frae me,
Or ony thy sweet face that see,
E'er to think thee a gawkie.
But, whisht, nae mair o' this we 'll speak,
For yonder Jamie does us meet;
Instead o' Meg he kiss'd sae sweet,
I trow he likes the gawkie.
O, dear Bess! I hardly knew,
When I cam' by, your gown sae new;
I think you 've got it wet wi' dew!
Quoth she, That 's like a gawkie!
It 's wat wi' dew, and 'twill get rain,
And I 'll get gowns when it is gane;
Sae ye may gang the gate ye came,
And tell it to your dawtie.
The guilt appear'd in Jamie's cheek;
He cried, O cruel maid, but sweet,
If I should gang anither gate,
I ne'er could meet my dawtie.
The lasses fast frae him they flew,
And left poor Jamie sair to rue
That ever Maggie's face he knew,
Or yet ca'd Bess a gawkie.
As they gaed ower the muir, they sang,
The hills and dales wi' echoes rang,
The hills and dales wi' echoes rang,
Gang o'er the muir to Maggie.