Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
272 . SongMy Love shes but a Lassie yet
M
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 needs na say she’s woo’d,
But he may say he’s bought her, O.
Come, draw a drap o’ the best o’t yet, Gae seek for pleasure whare you 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’d the fiddler’s wife; He could na preach for thinkin o’t.