The Tarbolton Lasses
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap, Ye'll there see bonie Peggy: She kens her father is a laird, And she forsooth's a leddy. There's Sophy tight, a lassie bright, Besides a handsome fortune: Wha canna win her in a night Has little art in courtin. Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale, And tak a look o' Mysie; She's dour and din, a deil within, But aiblins she may please ye. If she be shy, her sister try, Ye'll may be fancy Jenny: If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense She kens hersel she's bonnie. As ye gae up by yon hillside, Spier in for bonnie Bessy: She'll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light, And handsomely address ye. There's few sae bonny, nane sae guid, In a' King George' dominion; If ye should doubt the truth o' this It's Bessy's ain opinion.