Oh, Let Na Gang Yon Bonnie Lassie

Oh, let na gang yon bonnie lassie
Cam' to see you a' yestreen;
A winning gate 's about that lassie,
Something mair than meets the een.
Had she na baked the Christmas pasty,
Think ye it had been sae fine?
Or yet the biscuit sae delicious
That we crumpit to the wine?

Her ringlets are the gift o' nature,
Flowing gracefu' o'er her brow;
The turn, the hue o' ilka feature,
Form, and colour, nature drew.
She 's meikle sought, and meikle thought o',
Lang unwedded canna be;
Wi' kindness court the comely creature,
Cast the glaumrie o'er her e'e.

Have ye an ear can be delighted?
Like a seraph she can sing,
Wi' charming grace and witching manner,
Thrilling o'er the music string.
Her tell the tale that moves to pity,
But wi' heart and feeling speak;
Then watch the turn o' ilka feature,
Kiss the tear that weets her cheek.

She sooms na aye in silk or satin,
Flaunting like a modern belle;
Her robe and plaid 's the simple tartan,
Sweet and modest like hersel'.
The shapely robe adorns her person
That her eident hand wad sew;
The plaid sae graceful flung around her,
'Twas her tastefu' manner threw.

She 'll mak' a thrifty loving woman
To a kind weel-doing man,
Forby a tender-hearted mother--
Win the lassie if ye can.
For weel she 's worth your heart and treasure;
May your bridal day be near--
Then half a score o' bairns hereafter--
May ye live a hunder year.