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 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 maybe fancy Jenny;
     If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense--
     She kens hersel she's bonie.
     As ye gae up by yon hillside,
     Speir in for bonie Bessy;
     She'll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light,
     And handsomely address ye.
     There's few sae bonie, nane sae guid,
     In a' King George' dominion;
     If ye should doubt the truth o' this--
     It's Bessy's ain opinion!
     Ah, Woe Is Me, My Mother Dear
     Paraphrase of Jeremiah, 15th Chap., 10th verse.
     Ah, woe is me, my mother dear!
     A man of strife ye've born me:
     For sair contention I maun bear;
     They hate, revile, and scorn me.

     I ne'er could lend on bill or band,
     That five per cent. might blest me;
     And borrowing, on the tither hand,
     The deil a ane wad trust me.
     Yet I, a coin-denied wight,
     By Fortune quite discarded;
     Ye see how I am, day and night,
     By lad and lass blackguarded!