Oft I've resolv'd my ailment to explain-
Oft I've resolv'd indeed - but all in vain:
A springin blush spread fast owr aither cheek;
Down Robin luik'd, and duice a word could speak.

Can I forget that neet, (I never can)
When on the clean-swept hearth the spinnels ran;
The lasses drew the line wi' busy speed;
The lads as busy, minded ev'ry thread;
When, sad! the line sae slender Betty drew,
Snap went the thread, and down the spinnel flew;
To me it meade; the lads began to glop;
What would I de? I mun, mud tak it up:
I tuik it up, and (what gangs plaguy hard)
E'en reach'd it back without the sweet reward.

O lastin stain! E'en yet its cith to trace
A guilty conscience in my blushen feace.
I fain wad wesh it out, but never can:
Still fair it bides, like bluid of sackless man.

Nought sea was Wully bushfu': Wully spy'd
A par of scissars by the lass's side;
Thar lows'd, he sleely drop'd the spinnel down:
And what said Betty? - Betty struive to frown;
Up flew her hand to souse the cowren lad -
But, ah! I thought it fell not down owr sad!
What follow'd, I think mickle to repeat:
My teeth aw' watter'd then, and watter yet.