But Nelly’s looks are blythe and sweet,
     And what is best of a’,
     Her reputation is complete,
     And fair without a flaw.

     She dresses aye sae clean and neat,
     Both decent and genteel;
     And then there’s something in her gait
     Gars ony dress look weel.

     A gaudy dress and gentle air
     May slightly touch the heart;
     But it’s innocence and modesty
     That polishes the dart.

     ’Tis this in Nelly pleases me,
     ’Tis this enchants my soul;
     For absolutely in my breast
     She reigns without control.

Song—­O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day

     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.

Song—­I Dream’d I Lay

     I dream’d I lay where flowers were springing
     Gaily in the sunny beam;
     List’ning to the wild birds singing,
     By a falling crystal stream: 
     Straight the sky grew black and daring;
     Thro’ the woods the whirlwinds rave;
     Tress with aged arms were warring,
     O’er the swelling drumlie wave.