The Ew-bughts, Marion

Will ye gae to the ew-bughts, Marion,
And wear in the sheip wi' mee?
The sun shines sweit, my Marion,
But nae half sae sweit as thee.
O Marion's a bonnie lass;
And the blyth blinks in her ee:
And fain wad I marrie Marion,
Gin Marion wad marrie mee.

Theire's gowd in your garters, Marion;
And siller on your white hauss-bane:
Fou faine wad I kisse my Marion
At eene quhan I cum hame.
Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,
Quha gape and glowr wi' their ee
At kirk, quhan they see my Marion;
Bot nane of them lues like mee.

Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,
A cow and a brawney quay;
Ise gie tham au to my Marion,
Just on her bridal day.
And yees get a grein sey apron,
And waistcote o' London broun;
And wow bot ye will be vaporing
Quhaneir ye gang to the toun.

Ime yong and stout, my Marion,
None dance lik mee on the greine;
And gin ye forsak me, Marion,
Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.
Sae put on your pearlins, Marion,
And kirtle oth' cramasie;
And sune as my chin has nae haire on,
I sall cum west, and see yee.