Lyrics:
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
Last May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I said, there was naething I hated like men- The deuce gae
tears. In a breathless gaze, she stared into my eyes. Her body glazed, with the cold fade of death. The deaves moaned louder with pleasure. As her
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