Z 412 Sawney is a bonny lad. [Neapolitan translation]

Sawney is a bonny lad,

But Sawney kens it well,

And Sawney might a boon have had,

But Sawney loves to tell.

He weens that I mun love him soon,

Gin lovers now are rare,

But I'd as lief have none, as one,

Whom twanty share.

When anent your love you come,

Ah! Sawney were you true,

What tho' I seem to frown and gloom,

I ne'er could gang from you.

Yet still my tongue, do what I can,

With muckle woe denies,

Wa'es me! when once we like a man,

It boots not to be wise.