_Jen._ What suggar'd words frae wooers lips can fa'! But girning marriage comes and ends them a'. I've seen with shining fair the morning rise, And soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies. I've seen the silver spring a while rin clear, And soon in mossy puddles disappear. The bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may smile; But soon contentions a' their joys beguile. _Rog._ I've seen the morning rise with fairest light, The day unclouded sink in calmest night. I've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain, Increase and join the ocean without stain. The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile; Rejoice thro' life, and all your fears beguile. _Jen._ Were I but sure you lang wou'd love maintain, The fewest words my easy heart could gain: For I maun own, since now at last you're free, Altho' I jok'd, I lov'd your company; And ever had a warmness in my breast, That made ye dearer to me than the rest. _Rog._ I'm happy now! o'er happy! had my head!-- This gush of pleasure's like to be my dead. Come to my arms! or strike me! I'm all fir'd With wondring love! let's kiss till we be tir'd. Kiss, kiss! we'll kiss the sun and starns away, And ferly at the quick return of day! O Jenny! let my arms about thee twine, And briss thy bonny breasts and lips to mine. _Which may be sung as follows._ SANG XIII.--_Tune_, Leith Wynd. JENNY. _Were I assur'd you'd constant prove, You should nae mair complain; The easy maid, beset with love, Few words will quickly gain: For I must own, now since you're free, This too fond heart of mine Has lang, a black-sole true to thee, Wish'd to be pair'd with thine._ ROGER. _I'm happy now; ah! let my head Upon thy breast recline; The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead; Is_ Jenny _then sae kind?---- O! let me briss thee to my heart, And round my arms entwine: Delytfu' thought! we'll never part: Come press thy lips to mine._ _Jen._ With equal joy my easy heart gi'es way, To own thy well try'd love has won the day. Now by these warmest kisses thou has tane, Swear thus to love me, when by vows made ane. _Rog._ I swear by fifty thousand yet to come, Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb, There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife, If you agree with me to lead your life. _Jen._ Well, I agree:--Neist, to my parent gae, Get his consent,--he'll hardly say ye nay. Ye have what will commend ye to him well, Auld fowks, like them, that wants na milk and meal. SANG XIV.--_Tune_, O'er Bogie. _Well, I agree, ye're sure of me; Next to my father gae: Make him content to give consent, He'll hardly say you nay: For you have what he wad be at, And will commend you well, Since parents auld think love grows cauld, Where bairns want milk and meal._