Classic Poem

Ye bonny young virgins , ge sgiobalt 'ur ceum,
Be careful gu'n treig sibh an fheill so gun dail;
For though ye be handsome , 's ge meachair 'ur beul,
'S fior nonsense gun cheill, mur reitich sibh trath;
For old age is a beist 's bi'dh gach gne choire dhi,
Cur dium-buaidh air a snuadh, cha bhi uair loinneil di,
Therefore, don't tarry, but marry gu luath,
Mus biodh sibh gu truagh dol am buar mar as aill.

For beauty is fading , gun stad ach air sge
Mar aiteal do'n ghrein air eudann gach aird;
And though you have riches , gur tubaist gun cheill,
Mur tuig sibh 'ur feum air an fheill so 'na thrath.
When you want, you'll repent, but they shan't marry you,
Their gach bean tha i sean, 's cha toir fear aire dhi;
Bi'dh sibh-se gu dubhach, ri cumha 's ri caoidh,
A's liunn-dubh fo-thuinn a chaoidh ga nur cramh!

Nach c u is ghrain agus mi-thoirt, seann nighean gun sgiamh,
'Na briogaid gun mhiadh, 's nach iarrar a pog!
Bi'dh h-aodann air casadh, bi'dh falt air fas liath,
Bi'dh cam-char 'na bial a's fiar-char 'na sron.
When she'll whine and repine , cha bhi loinn tuille dhi,
Not a kiss a gheobh ise, she'll be meas cumanta,
Gun cheile, gun leannan, gun teallach, gun tuar,
'Na seasg-chaillich thruaigh, fo smuairean 's fo bhron.

The lily, the fairest by far of the flowers,
Ge moiteil a mh u irn, cha mhair e ach gearr;
And the beautiful rose of most glorious hue
Tha shnuadh dol a mugh' seach bruthainn a' Mhaigh,
Sud mar 's nos do gach oigh tha gach lo seanachadh,
Gus an caill iad an geall 's nach e 'n t-am teannadh riu,
'N uair threigeas a' mhaise, 'sa sguireas an loinn,
Bhi 'g acain a chaoidh nach d'rinn iad e trath.