i'm feared ye'd spoil the lacing o't.
i'm o'er young, &c.
hallowmass ise and gane,
the nights are lang in winter, sir,
and you an' i in ae bed,
in trowth, i dare na venture, sir.
i'm o'er young, &c.
fu' loud an' shill the frosty wind
blaws thro' the leafless timmer, sir;
but if yee this gate again;
i'll aulder be gin simmer, sir.
i'm o'er young, &c.