Her een sae bonnie blue betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is her o'erword aye,
She talks of rank and fashion.
O, why, &c.

O, wha can prudence think upon,
A sic a lassie by him?

O, wha can prudence think upon,
And sae in love as I am?
O, why, &c.

How blest the humble cotter's fate!
He woos his simple dearie;
The sillie bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make them eerie.
O, why should fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands untwining?
Or why sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune's shining?

GALLA WATER.

THERE'S braw braw lads on Yarrow braes
That wander thro' the blooming heather;

But Yarrow braes nor Ettric shaws,
Can match the lads o' Galla water.

But there is ane, a secret ane,

Aboon them a' I lo'e him better; And I'll be his, and he'll be mine, The bonnie lad o' Galla water.

Altho' his daddie was nae laird,

And tho' I hae nae meikle tocher;

Yet rich in kindest, truest love,

We'll tent our flocks by Galla water.