The sunday was warm and the blue and brown skippers
Where jumping and dancing along the gold broom
A ganging to Church in sweet shining slippers
I saw bonny Margarette just in her bloom
Her gown was the tartan red checked wi' blue
Her bonnet was straw platted sae small
Her bosom was beating so goodly and true
Her face the red rose — mine white as the wall.


I wanted to tempt her away from Church books
And steal from the Church down the valley to stray
And sit down and court her in sweet pleasant nooks
But she never heard — or had nothing to say
So I kept in her company to the church door
And went in to preaching, and sat by her side
I gazed on her tartan but did nothing moor
Than two or three wishes she might be my bride.


I left the Church seat with my hat in my hand
And kept by her side all the length of the way
I pressed that she would my best thoughts understand
So we took a new path in the valley to stray
Her young maiden innocence and beauty beside
Made me love her so dearly on those sabath hours
That a few weeks of courtship has made her my bride
And she loves me the dearest of wild forest flowers.
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