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Poem by Robert Burns


The Tarbolton Lasses (“If óe gae up to yon hill-tap…”)


If ye gae up to yon hill-tap,
  	Ye’ll there see bonnie 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 courting.

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 bonnie.

As ye gae up by yon hill-side,
  	Speer in for bonnie Bossy;
She’ll gi’e ye a beck, and bid ye light,
  	And handsomely address ye.

There’s few sae bonnie, nane sae gude,
  	In a’ King George’ dominion;
If ye should doubt the truth o’ this –
  	It’s Bessy’s ain opinion!

1778

Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
  2. Farewell, Thou Stream
  3. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
  4. Eppie M’Nab
  5. Why, Why Tell Thy Lover?


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