Robert Burns

O Steer Her Up

O STEER her up, and haud her gaun-
  Her mother’s at the mill, jo;
And gin she winna take a man,
  E’en let her take her will, jo:
First shore her wi’ a kindly kiss,
  And ca’ another gill, jo;
And gin she take the thing amiss,
  E’en let her flyte her fill, jo.

O steer her up, and be na blate,
  An’ gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then lea’e the lassie till her fate,
  And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne’er break your heart for ae rebute,
  But think upon it still, jo;
Then gin the lassie winna do’t,
  Ye’ll fin’ anither will, jo.