The Song Book No. 4/My Love She's But a Lassie Yet
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For other versions of this work, see My Love She's But a Lassie Yet.
MY LOVE SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET.
My love she's but a lassie yet,
My love she's but a lassie yet,
We'll let her stand an year or twa
She'll no be half sae sancy yet,
My love she's but a lassie yet,
We'll let her stand an year or twa
She'll no be half sae sancy 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's bought 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's 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 you will,
But here I never mist it yet.
Come draw a drap o' the best o't yet:
Gae seek for pleasure whare you will,
But here I never mist it yet.
We're a' dry wi' the drinking o't,
We're a dry wi' the drinking o't,
The minister kiss'd the fidler's wife,
And couldna preach for thinking o't.
We're a dry wi' the drinking o't,
The minister kiss'd the fidler's wife,
And couldna preach for thinking o't.