The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
THERE'S A YOUTH IN THIS CITY
I
There's a youth in this city, it were a great pityThat he from our lasses should wander awa';
For he's bonie and braw, weel-favor'd witha',
An' his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.
II
His coat is the hue o' his bonnet sae blue,His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw,
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clear siller buckles, they dazzle us a'.
III
For beauty and fortune the laddie's been courtin:Weel-featur'd, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted, an' braw,
But chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her—
The penny's the jewel that beautifies a'!
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IV
There's Meg wi' the mailen, that fain wad a haen him,And Susie, wha's daddie was laird of the Ha',
There's lang-tocher'd Nancy maist fetters his fancy;
But the laddie's dear sel he loes dearest of a'.
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||