Page:Jim Crow.pdf/4

 O gie me the lass that has acres o’ charms,

O gie me the lass wi the weel stockit farms.

Then hey for a lass wi’ a tocher,

Then hey for a lass wi a tocher

Then hey for a lass wi' a tocher,

The nice yellow guineas for me.

Your beauty’s a flower in the morning that blows,

And withers the faster, the faster it grows:

But the rapturous charm o’ the bonny green knowes,

Ilk spring they’re new decked wi’ bonny white yowes.

Then hey, &c.

And e’en when this beauty your bosom has blest,

The brightest o’ beauty may cloy when possest;

But the sweet yellow darlings wi’ Geordie imprest,

The langer ye hae them—the mair they’re carest.

Then hey &c



Saw ye my wee thing? saw ye my ain thing?

Saw ye my true love down by yon lea?

Cross'd she the meadow yestreen at the gloaming,

Sought she the burnie whare flowers the haw free?

Her hair it is lint-white, her skin it is milk-white,

Dark is the blue o’ her saft-rolling e’e,

Red, red her ripe lips, and sweeter than roses,

Where could my wee thing wander frae me?

I saw your ain Mary, she’s frae Castlecary,

I saw your ain true love down on yon lea,