"braw" poems - Hello Poetry

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi’ his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like men: The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me, believe me, The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me. He spak o’ the darts in my bonie black een, And vow’d for my love he was diein; I said he might die when he liked for Jean: The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein, The Lord forgie me for liein! A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers: I never loot on that I ken’d it, or car’d, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers. But what *** ye think? in a fortnight or less, (The deil tak his taste to *** near her!) He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. But a’ the niest week I fretted wi’ care, I gaed to the tryste o’ Dalgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock. I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock. But owre my left shoulder I *** him a blink, Lest neibors might say I was saucy; My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink, And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow’d I was his dear lassie. I spier’d for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover’d her hearin, And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl’t feet— But, heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But, heavens! how he fell a swearin. He begg’d, for gudesake, I *** be his wife, Or else I *** **** him wi’ sorrow: So e’en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.

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Robert Burns

Last May A Braw Wooer

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen, And sair wi’ his love he did deave me; I said there was naething I hated like men: The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me, believe me, The deuce *** wi ‘m to believe me. He spak o’ the darts in my bonie black een, And vow’d for my love he was diein; I said he might die when he liked for Jean: The Lord forgie me for liein, for liein, The Lord forgie me for liein! A weel-stocked mailen, himsel for the laird, And marriage aff-hand, were his proffers: I never loot on that I ken’d it, or car’d, But thought I might hae waur offers, waur offers, But thought I might hae waur offers. But what *** ye think? in a fortnight or less, (The deil tak his taste to *** near her!) He up the lang loan to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her, could bear her Guess ye how, the jad! I could bear her. But a’ the niest week I fretted wi’ care, I gaed to the tryste o’ Dalgarnock, And wha but my fine fickle lover was there, I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock, a warlock. I glowr’d as I’d seen a warlock. But owre my left shoulder I *** him a blink, Lest neibors might say I was saucy; My wooer he caper’d as he’d been in drink, And vow’d I was his dear lassie, dear lassie, And vow’d I was his dear lassie. I spier’d for my cousin fu’ couthy and sweet, Gin she had recover’d her hearin, And how her new shoon fit her auld shachl’t feet— But, heavens! how he fell a swearin, a swearin, But, heavens! how he fell a swearin. He begg’d, for gudesake, I *** be his wife, Or else I *** **** him wi’ sorrow: So e’en to preserve the poor body in life, I think I maun wed him to-morrow, to-morrow, I think I maun wed him to-morrow.