In simmer when the hay was mawn,
And corn wav'd green in ilka field,
While claver blooms white o'er the lea,
And roses blaw in ilka bield;
Blythe Bessie, in the milkin-shiel,
Says, I'll be wed come o't what will;
Outspak a dame in wrinkled eild,
O' gude advisement comes nae ill. —

Its ye hae wooers mony ane,
And lassie ye're but young ye ken;
Then wait a wee, and canie wale,
A routhie butt, a routhie ben:
There's Johnie o' the Buskieglen,
Fu' is his barn, fu' is his byre;
Tak this frae me, my bonie hen,
It's plenty beets the luver's fire. —

For Johnie o' the Buskieglen,
I dinna care a single flie;
He loes sae weel his craps and kye,
He has nae loove to spare for me:
But blythe 's the blink o' Robie's e'e,
And weel I wat he loes me dear;
Ae blink o' him I wad na gie
For Buskieglen and a' his gear. —

O thoughtless lassie, life 's a faught,
The canniest gate, the strife is sair;
But ay fu'-han't is fechtin best,
A hungry care 's an unco care:
But some will spend, and some will spare,
An' wilfu' folk maun hae their will;
Syne as ye brew, my maiden fair,
Keep mind that ye maun drink the yill. —

O gear will buy me rigs o' land,
And gear will buy me sheep and kye;
But tender heart o' leesome loove,
The gowd and siller canna buy:
We may be poor, Robie and I,
Light is the burden Loove lays on;
Content and Loove brings peace and joy,
What mair hae queens upon a throne. —