DOROTHY sits i the caul ingle neuk,
Her red rosy neb's like a labster tae,
Wi girnin, her mou's like the gab o the fleuk,
Wi smokin, her teeth's like the jet o the slae.
An aye she sings “Weel's me,” aye she sings "Weel's me,
Coggie, thou heals me ! coggie, thou heals me !
Aye my best frien whan there's onything ails me,
Ne'er shall we pairt till the day that I dee.”
Dorothy ance was a weel-tocher'd lass,
Had charms like her neebours, and lovers enou,
But she spited them sae, wi her pride an her sauce,
They left her for thretty lang simmers to rue.
Then aye she sang “Wae's me!” aye she sang “Wae's me!
Oh, I'll turn crazy, oh, I'll turn crazy !
Naething in a the wide warl can ease me,
Deil tak the wooers,—Oh, what shall I dae ?”
Dorothy, dozen't wi leevin her lane,
Pu'd at her rock, wi the tear in her ee
She thocht on the braw merry days that war gane,
And caft a wee coggie for companie.
Now aye she sings “Weel's me!” aye she sings “Weel's me !
Coggie, thou heals me ! coggie, thou heals me
Aye my best frien whan there's onything ails me,
Ne'er shall we pairt till the day that I dee.”
[Semple 148]