I never said I loved you, John:
Why will you tease me, day by day,
And wax a weariness to think upon
With always "do" and "pray"?

You know I never loved you, John;
No fault of mine made me your toast:
Why will you haunt me with a face as wan
As shows an hour-old ghost?

I dare say Meg or Moll would take
Pity upon you, if you'd ask:
And pray don't remain single for my sake
Who can't perform that task.

I have no heart?—Perhaps I have not;
But then you're mad to take offence
That I don't give you what I have not got:
Use your own common sense.

Let bygones be bygones:
Don't call me false, who owed not to be true:
I'd rather answer "No" to fifty Johns
Than answer "Yes" to you.

Let's mar our pleasant days no more,
Song-birds of passage, days of youth:
Catch at to-day, forget the days before:
I'll wink at your untruth.

Let us strike hands as hearty friends;
No more, no less: and friendship's good:
Only don't keep in view ulterior ends,
And points not understood

In open treaty. Rise above
Quibbles and shuffling off and on:
Here's friendship for you if you like; but love,—
No, thank you, John.

'Saw ye Johnny comin'?' quo' she,
'Saw ye Johnny comin'?
Wi' his blue bonnet on his head,
And his doggie runnin'.
Yestreen about the gloamin' time
I chanced to see him comin'
Whistling merrily the tune
That I am a' day hummin',' quo she,
'I am a' day hummin'.'

'Fee him, faither, fee him,' quo' she,
'Fee him, faither, fee him;
A' the wark about the house
Gaes wi' me whan I see him:
A' the wark about the house,
I gang sae lightly through it;
And though ye pay some merks o' geer,
Hoot! ye winna rue it,' quo' she,
'No; ye winna rue it.'

'What wad I do wi' him, hizzy?
What wad I do wi' him?
He's ne'er a sark upon his back,
And I hae nane to gie him.'
'I hae twa sarks into my kist,
And ane o' them I'll gie him;
And for a merk o' mair fee,
O, dinna stand wi' him,' quo' she,
'Dinna stand wi' him.'

'Weel do I lo'e him,' quo' she,
'Weel do I lo'e him,
The brawest lads about the place
Are a' but haverels to him.
O fee him, faither; lang I trow
We've dull and dowie been;
He'll haud the plough, thrash i' the barn,
And crack wi' me at e'en,' quo' she,
'Crack wi' me at e'en.'