The Book of Scottish Song/O the weary siller
O the weary siller.
O the weary siller!
O the weary siller!
Wha wad venture till her,
That hadna got the siller?
She's stately, proud, and shy,
Disdains to speak to onie,
But yet her distant eye
Wad glitter at the money.
O the weary silkr, &c.
You'd think her heart was cold,
And never gave a flutter,
But touch it with the gold,
'T wad melt like summer butter!
O the weary siller, &c.
Ga'e tak' her for a wife,
She'll wink at onie failing,
And cuddle you through life,
Sae lang's you keep your mailing.
O the weary siller, &c.
But should your purse grow light,
And fortune seek to shun ye,
It's then you'll see her right,
And the Lord ha'e mercy on ye!
O the weary siller!
O the weary siller!
Wha wad venture till her,
That hadna got the siller?