The poem
THERE’S a youth in this city, it were a great pity That he from our lassies should wander awa’; For he’s bonie and braw, weel-favor’d witha’, An’ his hair has a natural buckle an’ a’.
His coat is the hue o’ 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 an’ braw; But chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her, The penny’s the jewel that beautifies a’.
There’s Meg wi’ the mailen that fain wad a haen him, And Susie, wha’s daddie was laird o’ the Ha’; There’s lang-tocher’d Nancy maist fetters his fancy, But the laddie’s dear sel’, he loes dearest of a’.