Robert Burns

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THERE’S a youth in this city, it were a great pity
  That he from our lasses should wander awa;
For he’s bonnie and braw, weel favour’d witha’,
  And his hair has a natural buckle and a’.
His coat is the hue of his bonnet sae blue;
  His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw;
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
  And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a’.

For beauty and fortune the laddie’s been courtin;
  Weel-featur’d, weel-tocher’d, weel-mounted and braw;
But chiefly the siller, that gars him gang till her,
  The penny’s the jewel that beautifies a’.
There’s Meg wi’ the mailin, that fain wad a haen him,
  And Susy whase daddy was Laird o’ the ha’;
There’s lang-tocher’d Nancy maist fetters his fancy,
  -But the laddie’s dear sel he lo’es dearest of a’.