Had I the wyte

Sae craftille she took me ben, And bade me mak nae clatter; "For our ramgunshock, glum goodman "Is o'er ayont the water."

Whae'r shall say I wanted grace, When I did kiss and daute her, Let him be planted in my place, Syne, say, I was a fautor.

Could I for shame, could I for shame, Could I for shame refus'd her? And wadna manhood been to blame, Had I unkindly us'd her.

He claw'd her wi' the rippling-kame, And blae and bluidy bruis'd her; When sic a hus and was frae hame, What wife but wad excus'd her?

I dighted ay her cen sae blue, And bann'd the cruel randy; And weel I wat her willing mou Was e'en like sugarcandie.

At gloanin-shote it was, I wat I lighted on the Monday; But I cam thro' the Tisday's dew, To wanton Willie’s braudy.