her e'en, sae bonie blue, betray

how she repays my passion;

but prudence is her o'erword aye,

she talks o' rank and fashion.

o why, c.

o wha can prudence think upon,

and sic assie by him?

o wha can prudence think upon,

and sae in 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.