1792
i do fess thou art sae fair
alteration of an old poem.
i do fess thou art sae fair,
i was been o'er the lugs in luve,
had i na found the slightest prayer
that lips could speak thy heart could muve.
i do fess thee sweet, but find
thou art so thriftless o' thy sweets,
thy favours are the silly wind
that kisses ilka thing it meets.
see yonder rosebud, ri dew,
amang its native briers sae coy;
how su tis st and hue,
when pu'd and worn a on toy.
sic fate ere ng shall thee betide,
tho' thou may gaily bloom awhile;
and suhou shalt be thrown aside,
like ony on weed and vile.