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Poems and Songs of Robert Burns
duncan gray duncan gray cam' here to woo, ha, ha, the wooing o't, on blythe yule-night when we were fou, ha, ha, the wooing o't, maggie coost her head fu' heigh, look'd asklent and unco skeigh, gart poor duncan stand abeigh; ha, ha, the wooing o't. duncan fleech'd and duncan pray'd; ha, ha, the wooing o't, meg was deaf as ailsa craig, ha, ha, the wooing o't: duncan sigh'd baith out and in, grat his e'en baith blear't an' blin', spak o' lowpin o'er a linn; ha, ha, the wooing o't. time and chance are but a tide, ha, ha, the wooing o't, slighted love is sair to bide, ha, ha, the wooing o't: shall i like a fool, h he, for a haughty hizzie die? she may gae to—france for me! ha, ha, the wooing o't. how it comes let doctors tell, ha, ha, the wooing o't; meg grew sick, as he grew hale, ha, ha, the wooing o't. something in her bosom wrings, for relief a sigh she brings: and oh! her een they spak sic things! ha, ha, the wooing o't. duncan was a lad o' grace, ha, ha, the wooing o't: maggie's was a piteous case, ha, ha, the wooing o't: duncan could na be her death, swelling pity smoor'd his wrath; now they're crouse and canty baith, ha, ha, the wooing o't.M.HzGjJx.com