Beauties of Glasgow/Fy gar rub her o'er wi' strae

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Fy gar rub her o'er wi' Strae.

GIN ye meet a bonny lassie,
Gie her a kiss, and let her gae;
But it she be a dirty hissie,
fy gar rub her o'er wi' strae.

Be sure ye dinna quat the grip,
or ilka joy when ye are young,
Before auld age your vitals nip,
and lay you twafold o'er a rung.

Sweet youth's a blyth and heartsome time,
then lads and lassies, while its May,
Gae pou the gowan in its prime,
before it wither and decay.

Watch the fast minutes of delight,
when Jenny speaks beneath her breath,
And kisses, laying a’ the wite
On you, if she keep ony skaith.

Haith ye're ill-bred, she’ll smiling say,
ye'll worry me, ye greedy rook;
Syne frae your arms she'll rin away,
and hide hersel in some dark nook.

Her laugh will lead you to the place
where lies the happiness ye want,
And plainly tells you to your face,
nineteen naysays are half a grant.

Now to her heaving bosom cling,
and sweetly toolie for a kiss
Frae her fair finger whop a ring,
as token of a future bliss.

These benisons, I'm very sure,
are of the gods indulgent grant;
Then surly Charles, whish forbear,
to plague us with your whinning cant.

F I N I S.