O poortith cauld, and restless love,
Ye wrack my peace between ye;
Yet poortitha’ I could forgive,
An’twere nafor my Jeanie.
Chorus-O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life’s dearest bands untwining?
Orwhy sae sweet a flower as love
Depend on Fortune’s shining?
The warld’s wealth, when I think on,
It’s pride and a’the laveo’t;
O fie on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave o’t!
O why, &c.
Her e’en, sae bonieblue, betray
How she repays my passion;
Butprudence is her o’erwordaye,
She talks o’rank and fashion.
O why, &c.
O wha can prudence think upon,
And sica lassie byhim?
O whacan prudence think upon,
And saein love as I am?
O why, &c.
How blest the simple cotter’s fate!
He woos his artless dearie;
The silly bogles, wealth and state,
Can never make him eerie,
O why, &c.