Sawney is a bonny lad, But Sawney kens it well; And Sawney might a boon have had, But Sawney loves to tell: He weens that I mun love him soon, Gin lovers now are rare; But I'd as leif have none, as one Whom twenty, twenty share. When anent your love you come, Ah! Sawney, were you true; What tho' I seem to frown and gloom, I ne'er cou'd gang from you: Yet still my tongue, do what I can, With mickle woe denies; Wa's me, when once we like a man, It boots not to be wise.