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TIBBIE wi’ her FIFTY MARK.
O Tibbie. I ha’e seen the day
ye wadna been sae shy;
For laik o’gear ye lightly me,
but yet I carena by.
Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spakena, but gaed by like flour!
Ye geek at me because I’m poor,
But ne’er a hair care I.
I doubtna, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye ha’e the name o’clink,
That ye can please me wi’ a wink,
Whene’er ye like to try.
He’s silly that would be sae mean,
Altho’ his pouch o’coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,
hat looks sae proud and high:
O Tibbie, &c.
Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
If he want gowd, that yellow dirt,
Ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
