To Get A Man
This warld is a lottery, as ilk ane may ken;
There are prizes for women as weel as for men:
But as far as my faither and mither can see,
Though the're prizes for some, there aye blanks for me!
Though black, I'm comely; my een's like a slae!
Odd! I'm sure they're far better than een that are grey?
Yet the lads they court Katey as fast as they can,
While my father aye tells me - I'll never get a man.