Explore "The Tarbolton Lasses" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap, / Ye'll there see bonie Peggy; / She kens her father is a laird, / And she forsooth's a leddy.
There Sophy tight, a lassie bright, / Besides a handsome fortune: / Wha canna win her in a night, / Has little art in courtin'.
Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale, / And tak a look o' Mysie; / She's dour and din, a deil within, / But aiblins she may please ye.
If she be shy, her sister try, / Ye'll maybe fancy Jenny; / If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense- / She kens hersel she's bonie.
As ye gae up by yon hillside, / Speir in for bonie Bessy; / She'll gie ye a beck, and bid ye light, / And handsomely address ye.
There's few sae bonie, nane sae guid, / In a' King George' dominion; / If ye should doubt the truth o' this- / It's Bessy's ain opinion!