This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
In January last,
On Munanday at morn,
As through the fields I past,
To view the winter corn,
I looked me behind,
And saw come o'er the knowe,
And glancing in her apron,
With a bonnie brent brow.
I said, Good-morrow, fair maid,
And she right courteously
Return'd a beck, and kindly said,
Good-day, sweet Sir, to you.
I speir'd, My dear, how far awa'
Do ye intend to gae?
Quoth she, I mean a mile or twa
Out o'er yon broomy brae.
Fair maid, I'm thankfu' to my fate,
To have sic company;
For I'm ganging straight that gate,
Where ye intend to be.
When we had gane a mile or twain,
I said to her, My dow,
May we not lean us on this plain,
And kiss your bonnie mou'.
Kind sir, ye are a wee mistane;
For I am nane of these,
I hope you some mair breeding ken,
Than to ruffle women's claise:
For may be I have chosen ane,
And plighted him my vow,
Wha may do wi' me what ho likes,
And kiss my bonnie mou'.
Na, if ye are contracted,
I ha'e nae mair to say:
Rather than be rejected,
I will gi'e o'er the play;
And chuse anithcr will respect
My love, and on me rew;
And let me clasp her round the neck,
And kiss her bonnie mou'.
O sir, ye are proud hearted,
And laith to be said nay,
Else ye wad ne'er 'a started
For ought that I did say,
For women in their modesty,
At first they winna bow;
But if we like your company,
We'll prove as kind as you.