My heart is a-breaking, dear Tittie, Some counsel unto me come len’; To anger them a’ is a pity, But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen? I’m thinking, wi’ sic a braw fellow, In poortith I might mak a fen’: What care I in riches to wallow, If I mauna marry Tam Glen? There’s Lowrie, the laird o’ Dumeller, “Guid-day to you,”—brute! he comes ben: He brags and he blaws o’ his siller, But when will he dance like Tam Glen? My minnie does constantly deave me, And bids me beware o’ young men; They flatter, she says, to deceive me; But wha can think sae o’ Tam Glen? My daddie says, gin I’ll forsake him, He’ll gie me guid hunder marks ten: But, if it’s ordain’d I maun take him, O wha will I get but Tam Glen? Yestreen at the valentines’ dealing, My heart to my mou gied a sten: For thrice I drew ane without failing, And thrice it was written, “Tam Glen”! The last Halloween I was waukin My droukit sark-sleeve, as ye ken: His likeness cam up the house staukin, And the very gray breeks o’ Tam Glen! Come counsel, dear Tittie, don’t tarry; I’ll gie ye my bonie black hen, Gif ye will advise me to marry The lad I lo’e dearly, Tam Glen.