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Robert Burns - The Tarbolton Lasses
Work rating: Medium

If ye gae up to yon hill-tap,
Ye`ll there see bonie Peggy;
She kens her father is a laird,
And she forsooth`s a leddy.

There Sophy tight, a lassie bright,
Besides a handsome fortune:
Wha canna win her in a night,
Has little art in courtin`.

Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale,
And tak a look o` Mysie;
She`s dour and din, a deil within,
But aiblins she may please ye.

If she be shy, her sister try,
Ye`ll maybe fancy Jenny;
If ye`ll dispense wi` want o` sense-
She kens hersel she`s bonie.

As ye gae up by yon hillside,
Speir in for bonie Bessy;
She`ll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light,
And handsomely address ye.

There`s few sae bonie, nane sae guid,
In a` King George` dominion;
If ye should doubt the truth o` this-
It`s Bessy`s ain opinion!
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