I WAS anes a well-tocher'd lass,
My mither left dollars to me;
But now I 'm brought to a poor pass,
My step-dame has gart them flee.
My father he 's aften frae hame,
And she plays the deel with his gear;
She neither has lawtith nor shame,
And keeps the hale house in a steer.

She 's barmy-fac'd, thriftless, and bauld,
And gars me aft fret and repine,
While hungry, haff naked, and cauld,
I see her destroy what 's mine.
But soon I might hope a revenge,
And soon of my sorrows be free,
My poortith to plenty wad change,
If she were hung up on a tree.

Quoth Ringan, wha lang time had loo'd
This bonny lass tenderly,
I 'll take thee, sweet May, in thy snood,
Gif thou wilt gae hame with me.
'Tis only yoursell that I want;
Your kindness is better to me
Than a' that your step-mother, scant
Of grace, now has taken frae thee.

I'm but a young farmer, 'tis true,
And ye are the sprout of a laird;
But I have milk-cattle enow,
And rowth of good rucks in my yard:
Ye shall have naithing to fash ye;
Sax servants shall jouk to thee:
Then kilt up thy coats, my lassie,
And gae thy ways hame with me.

The maiden her reason employ'd,
Not thinking the offer amiss,
Consented; — while Ringan o'erjoy'd,
Receiv'd her with mony a kiss.
And now she sits blythly singan,
And joking her drunken step-dame,
Delighted with her dear Ringan,
That makes her goodwife at hame.