Kind Robin Lo'es Me

Robin is my ain gudeman,
Now match him, carlins, gin ye can,
For ilk ane whitest thinks her swan,
But kind Robin lo'es me.
To mak my boast I 'll e'en be bauld,
For Robin lo'ed me young and auld,
In summer's heat and winter's cauld,
My kind Robin lo'es me.

Robin he comes hame at e'en
Wi' pleasure glancin' in his e'en;
He tells me a' he 's heard and seen,
And syne how he lo'es me.
There 's some hae land, and some hae gowd,
Mair wad hae them gin they could,
But a' I wish o' warld's guid,
Is Robin still to lo'e me.