My heart is a—breaking, dear Tittie,
Some counsel unto me come len’;
To anger them a’ is a pity,
But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen?
I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak a fen’:
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I mauna marry Tam Glen?
There’s Lowrie, the laird o’ Dumeller,
“Guid—day to you,”—brute! he comes ben:
He brags and he blaws o’ his siller,
But when will he dance like Tam Glen?
My minnie does constantly deave me,
And bids me beware o’ young men;
They flatter, she says, to deceive me;
But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen?
My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him,
He’ll gie me guid hunder marks ten:
But, if it’s ordain’d I maun take him,
O wha will I get but Tam Glen?
Yestreen at the valentines’ dealing,
My heart to my mou gied a sten:
For thrice I drew ane without failing,
And thrice it was written, “Tam Glen”!
The last Halloween I was waukin
My droukit sark—sleeve, as ye ken:
His likeness cam up the house staukin,
And the very gray breeks o’ Tam Glen!
Come counsel, dear Tittie, don’t tarry;
I’ll gie ye my bonie black hen,
Gif ye will advise me to marry
The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.