The Disappointment Poem by Robert Anderson

The muin shone breet at nine last neet,
When Jemmy Sharp com owre the muir;
Weel did I ken a lover's fit,
And heard him softly tap the duir:
My fadder started i' the nuik,
`Rin, Jenny! see what's that,' he said:
I whisper'd, `Jemmy, come to--mworn,'
And then a leame excuse suin meade.

I went to bed, but cudn't sleep,
This luive sae breks a body's rest;
The mwornin dawn'd, then up I gat,
And seegh'd, and aye luik'd tow'rds the west;
But when far off I saw the wood,
Where he unlock'd his heart to me,
I thought o' monie a happy hour,
And then a tear gush'd frae my e'e.

To--neet my fadder's far frae heame,
And wunnet come these three hours yet;
But, O! it pours, and I'd be leath
That Jemmy sud for me get wet!
Yet, if he dis, guid heame--brew'd yell
Will warm his chearfu' honest heart;
Wi' him, my varra life o' life!
I's fain to meet, but leath to part.