Poems and Songs of Robert Burns. Robert BurnsЧитать онлайн книгу.

       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.