The ewe-bughts

Will ye go to the yowe-buchts, Marion,

And weir in the sheep wi' me?

The sun shines sweet, my Marion,

But nae hauf sae sweet as thee.

O, Marion's a bonnie lass,

And the blythe blink 's in her ee;

And fain wad I marry Marion,

Gin Marion wad marry me.

There's gowd in your garters, Marion,

And silk on your white hause-bane;

Fou fain wad I kiss my Marion,

At een, when I come hame.

There's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,

Wha gape, and glower wi' their ee,

At kirk when they see my Marion;

But none o' them lo'es like me.

I've nine milk-yowes, my Marion,

A cow and a brawny quey;

I'll gie them a' to my Marion,

Just on her bridal-day.

And ye'se get a green sey apron,

And waistcoat o' London broun;

And wow but we'se be vap'rin'

Whene'er ye gang to the toun.

I'm young and stout, my Marion;

Nane dances like me on the green:

And, gin ye forsake me, Marion,

I'll e'en gae draw up wi' Jean.

Sae put on your pearlins, Marion,

And kirtle o' cramasie;

And, as sune as my chin has nae hair on,

I will come west, and see ye.