O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortith a I could forgive,
An twere na for my Jeanie.
Chorus.O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Lifes dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortunes shining?
The warlds wealth, when I think on,
Its pride and a the lave ot;
O fie on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave ot!
O why, &c.
Her een, sae bonie blue, betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her oerword aye,
She talks o rank and fashion.
O why, &c.
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sic a lassie by him?
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am?
O why, &c.
How blest the simple cotters fate!
He woos his artless dearie;
The silly bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make him eerie,
O why, &c.
