Tune—“I am a man unmarried.”
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Footnote 1: The first of my performances.—R. B.] Once I lov’d a bonie lass,Ay, and I love her still;And whilst that virtue warms my breast,I’ll love my handsome Nell. As bonie lasses I hae seen,And mony full as braw;But, for a modest gracefu’ mein,The like I never saw. A bonie lass, I will confess,Is pleasant to the e’e;But, without some better qualities,She’s no a lass for me. But Nelly’s looks are blythe and sweet,And what is best of a’,Her reputation is complete,And fair without a flaw. She dresses aye sae clean and neat,Both decent and genteel;And then there’s something in her gaitGars ony dress look weel. A gaudy dress and gentle airMay slightly touch the heart;But it’s innocence and modestyThat polishes the dart. ’Tis this in Nelly pleases me,’Tis this enchants my soul;For absolutely in my breastShe reigns without control. Song—O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day Tune—“Invercauld’s Reel, or Strathspey.” Choir.—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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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.O Tibbie, I hae seen the day, &c. 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, &c.
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