There’s a youth in this city, it were a great pity
That he from the lasses should wander awa’;
For he’s bonie an braw, weel-favor’d with a’,
An’ his hair has a natural buckle an’ a’.
His coat is the hue o’ his bonnet sae blue,
His fecket is white as the new-driven snaw,
His hose they are blae, and his shoon like the slae,
And his clear siller buckles, they dazzle us a’.
For beauty and fortune the laddie’s been courtin;
Weel-featur’d, weel-tocher’d, weel-mounted, an’ braw,
But chiefly the siller that gars him gang till her –
The penny’s the jewel that beautifies a’!
There’s Meg wi’ the mailen, that fain wad a haen him.
And Susie, wha’s daddie was laird of the Ha’,
There’s lang-tocher’d Nancy maist fetters his fancy;
But the laddie’s dear sel he loes dearest of a’.
— Robert Burns.