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"Syne for daffin' wi' the maidens,
"Wha cou'd brag wi' Colin Clout?
"Now my dancing days are over,
"Nought am I but skin an' bane;
"Late an' ear, a luckless lover,
"I can only sigh an' grane!
"A' the night I toss an' tum'le;
"Never can I close an ee;
"A' the day I grane an' grum'le—
"Jenny, this is a' for thee.
"Ye'll ha'e nane but farmer Patie,
"'Cause the fallow's rich, I trow;
"Aiblins, tho' he shou'd na cheat ye,
"Jenny ye'll ha'e cause to rue.
"Tho' the coof wad fain be dashin',
"Wi' his bannet set a-jee,
"Cocket up in Highland fashin-
"Was he e'er sae tight as me?
"Auld, an' glee'd, an' crooket backet—
"Siller, bought at sic a price,
"Jenny, gin ye loot to tak it,
"Fouk will say ye're nae o'er nice!
"Jenny, Jenny, scornfu' hizzy!
"Will ye be poor Colin's death?—
