The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 21
Dear Jean
Dear Jean.
Yestreen i' the gloamin I gaed tae a frien's,
To crack and to pass the hour by;
The house was deserted, not one to be seen,—
Wee Bessie was aff for the kye.
I sat mysel' doun at the side o' the wa',
By a fireside sae neat and sae clean;
I scarcely had sitten a minute or twa,
Till wha should step in but dear Jean!
She cam and sat doun on a chair in the room,
Gude L—d! how my heart loupit then;
I stammer'd some words' bout the crops an' the rain,
What more I said noo I scarce ken.
She Mister'd me too, the sly thing that she did,
And then she would speak unco dry,
And lectured me on the fine life that I led,
And scolded—I canna tell why.
She wondered how I, wi' sic sense and sic head,
Should listen to naebody's caution;
I tell'd her I cared na what a' body said,
And never went into a passion.
I said there were twa in the toun I should heed,
And respect the advice they might give;
And one I admired, nay adored her indeed,
And should do so as long as I'd live.
"Oh, one o' them weel do I ken wha he is;
It's Johnie that stays by the sea;
But whatna young lassie ye worship like this,
I wonder noo wha it 'ill be?"
I laughed, and I joked, and I teazed her a while,
But what was her name wad I tell;
She guessed a' the lasses within a roun' mile,
But never ance mentioned hersel'!