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Poem by Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne


I wish I ken'd my Maggie's mind,
If she's for me or Tammy;
To me she is but passing kind,
She's caulder still to Tammy.
And yet she lo'es me no that ill,
If I believe her granny;
O sure she must be wond'rous nice,
If she'll no hae me or Tammy.

I've spier'd her ance, I've spier'd her twice,
And still she says she canna;
I'll try her again, and that maks thrice,
And thrice, they say, is canny.
Wi' him she'll hae a chaise and pair,
Wi' me she'll hae shanks-naggie;
He's auld and black, I'm young and fair,
She'll surely ne'er tak Tammy.

But if she's a fule, and slightlies me,
I'se e'en draw up wi' Nancy;
There's as gude fish into the sea
As e'er cam' out, I fancy.
And though I say't that shou'dna say't,
I'm owre gude a match for Maggie;
Sae mak' up your mind without delay,
Are ye for me, or Tammy?

Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne

Carolina Oliphant, Lady Nairne's other poems:
  1. Fell He on the Field of Fame
  2. Rest Is Not Here
  3. The Laird o' Cockpen
  4. The Pentland Hills
  5. He's Owre the Hills that I Lo'e Weel

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