human
There's' in a' the world nae ane like our Sandy.
gpt
I've often thought the same mysel,
human
And between ye, ye mean tae spoil me completely, wi' yer flattery that I own is sweet tae hear.
gpt
Ye canna be spoiled, said Margaret McLeod;
human
Oh, the prejudice o' a lovin' woman, Sandy replied,
gpt
She's been singing the blithe Scotch ballads since she was a' most a bairnie, an' her voice has grown sweeter a' the time. I say again, I hope he's na daft.
human
Sandy, Sandy! cried Margaret,
gpt
He says that he will make me sing just wonderful,
human
An' na doot he will,