392 . Song—Poortith cauld and restless love

O POORTITH cauld, and restless love,

Ye wrack my peace between ye;

Yet poortith a’ I could forgive,

An ’twere na for my Jeanie.

Chorus.—O why should Fate sic pleasure have,

Life’s dearest bands untwining?

Or why 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 lave o’t;

O fie on silly coward man,

That he should be the slave o’t!

O why, &c.

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 a lassie 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.