There's A Youth In This City.

To a Gaelic Air.


I.

                There's a youth in this city,
                It were a great pity
    That he frae our lasses shou'd wander awa:
                For he's bonnie an' braw,
                Weel-favour'd an' a',
    And his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.
                His coat is the hue
                Of his bonnet sae blue;
    His feck it 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'.

II.

                For beauty and fortune
                The laddie's been courtin';
    Weel-featured, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw;
                But chiefly the siller,
                That gars him gang till her,
    The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.
                There's Meg wi' the mailen
                That fain wad a haen him;
    And Susie, whose daddy was laird o' the ha';
                There's lang-tocher'd Nancy
                Maist fetters his fancy,
    But the laddie's dear sel' he lo'es dearest of a'.