O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye wadna been sae shy; For laik o' gear ye lightly me, But, trowth, I care na by. Yestreen I met you on the moor, Ye spak na, but gaed by like stour; Ye geck at me because I'm poor, But fient a hair care I. When coming hame on Sunday last, Upon the road as I cam past, Ye snufft and ga'e your head a cast - But trowth I care't na by. I doubt na, lass, but ye may think, Because ye hae the name o' clink, That ye can please me at a wink, Whene'er ye like to try. But sorrow tak' him that's sae mean, Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean, Wha follows ony saucy quean, That looks sae proud and high. Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart, If that he want the yellow dirt, Ye'll cast your head anither airt , And answer him fu' dry. But, if he hae the name o' gear, Ye'll fasten to him like a brier, Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear, Be better than the kye . But, Tibbie, lass, tak' my advice: Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice; The deil a ane wad speir your price, Were ye as poor as I. There lives a lass beside yon park, I'd rather hae her in her sark, Than you wi' a' your thousand mark; That gars you look sae high. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, Ye wadna been sae shy; For laik o' gear ye lightly me, But, trowth, I care na by.