Favorite new song, called Saucy Tibby, wi' her fifty mark/Tibbie wi' her Fifty Mark

TIBBIE wi’ her FIFTY MARK.

O Tibbie. I ha’e seen the day
⁠ye wadna been sae shy;
For laik o’gear ye lightly me,
⁠but yet I carena by.

Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spakena, but gaed by like flour!
Ye geek at me because I’m poor,
⁠But ne’er a hair care I.

I doubtna, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye ha’e the name o’clink,
That ye can please me wi’ a wink,
⁠Whene’er ye like to try.
He’s silly that would be sae mean,
Altho’ his pouch o’coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean,
⁠hat looks sae proud and high:
⁠⁠⁠O Tibbie, &c.

Altho’ a lad were e’er sae smart,
If he want gowd, that yellow dirt,
Ye’ll cast your head anither airt,
⁠And answer him su'dry. But if he hae the name o’ gear,
Ye’ll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho’ hardly he, for sense and lear,
⁠Be better than the ky.
⁠⁠⁠O Tibbie, &c.

O Tibbie, ye’re o’er su’ o’spice,
Your Daddie’s gear makes you o’er nice,
But ne’er a ane wad speir your price,
⁠Were ye as poor as I.
There lives a lass in yonder park,
I wadna gi’e her in her sark,
For you and a’ your fifty mark.
⁠That gars ye look sae shy.
⁠⁠⁠O Tibbie, &c.