Bonny Jean (1)/Although my Meg's gien me the bag

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Although my Meg's gie'n me the bag.

Although my Meg's gien me the bag
⁠The fling, or what d'ye ca' that,
An' squares wi' Jock, the Lunnon buck,
⁠I'm no to greet for a' that;
For a' that, an' a' that,
⁠An' twice as muckle's a' that,
Though she be sweet, for kissing meet.
⁠An' muckle mair than a' that.

There's mony a ane for less wad mane,
⁠In drear kirk-yards an' a' that,
An' tell the pale moon sic a tale,
⁠Wad break her heart an' a' that
Till frae his wits like a' that,
⁠He'd take a race wi' a' that,
Some gloamin' grey, and syle the Tay,
⁠Cheat fishermen, an' a' that.

But by my sooth, I wad be laith,
⁠Sic pranks to play, an' a’ that,
Nor shall she boast, that I hae lost,
⁠Ae hours repose for a' that.
She's fair, but what o' a' that.
⁠There's plenty mair wi' a' that,
That glad will be to mak wi' me,
⁠A wedding o't, an' a' that