My love, she's but a lassie yet,
My love, she's but a lassie yet!
We'll let her stand a year or twa,
She'll no be half sae saucy yet!
I rue the day I sought her, O!
I rue the day I sought her, O!
Wha gets her need na say he's woo'd,
But he may say he has bought her, O.
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet,
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet!
Gae seek for pleasure whare ye will,
But here I never miss'd it yet.
We're a'dry wi' drinkin o't,
We're a'dry wi' drinkin o't!
The minister kiss't the fiddler's wife--
He could na preach for thinkin o't!
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Comments1Wow, such nostalgic feel this piece gives. Reminds me of thee old days when a lad had to court a lass with all the proper stages before sealing a deal. “Wha gets her need na say he's woo'd, But he may say he has bought her, O.” - resonates very much on how complex luv used to be. Hehe, even the minister fell short. This is a real classic!