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She has goud studs in her lugs,
Cockle-shells wou'd suit her better,
High-heel’d shoon and siller tags,
And a' the lads are powing at her. &c.
Ten came east and ten came west,
And ten came rowing o’er the water,
Twall came down the Lang Dykeside,
There’s twa an' forty wooing at her, &c.
If a lass be ne’er sae black,
Gi’e her but the penny siller,
Set her upo‘ Tintock-tap,
The wind will blaw a man till her. &c.
If a lass be ne’er sae fine,
Gin she want the penny siller.
The may stan' till ninety-nine
Ere there come a man till her. &c.
GENUINE BEAUTY.
O Would you know what sacred charms,
This destin’d heart of mine alarms,
What kind of nymph the Heav’n’s decree,
The maid that’s made for love and me.
Who joys to hear the sigh sincere,
So melts to see the tender tear,
From each ungentle passion free,
Such is the maid that’s made for me.
Whose heart with gen'rous friendship glows,
And feels the blessings she bestows;
Free unto all, but kind to me,
Such be the maid that’s made for me.
