tune—“invercauld's reel, or strathspey.”
choir.—o tibbie, i hae seen the day,
ye wadna been sae shy;
for laik o' gear ye lightly me,
but, trowth, i care na by.
yestreen i met you on the moor,
ye spak na, but gaed by like stour;
ye geck at me because i'm poor,
but fient a hair care i.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
when coming hame on sunday last,
upon the road as i cam past,
ye snufft and ga'e your head a cast—
but trowth i care't na by.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
i doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
because ye hae the name o' clink,
that ye can please me at a wink,
whene'er ye like to try.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but sorrow tak' him that's sae mean,
altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
wha follows ony saucy quean,
that looks sae proud and high.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
if that he want the yellow dirt,
ye'll cast your head anither airt,
and answer him fu' dry.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but, if he hae the name o' gear,
ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,
be better than the kye.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
but, tibbie, lass, tak' my advice:
your daddie's gear maks you sae nice;
the deil a ane wad speir your price,
were ye as poor as i.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.
there lives a lass beside yon park,
i'd rather hae her in her sark,
than you wi' a' your thousand mark;
that gars you look sae high.
o tibbie, i hae seen the day, c.