Classic Poem

Tune — Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen .

There lives a lassie i' the braes,
And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her,
Whan she has on her Sunday's claes,
Ye never saw a lady brawer;
So a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there's ow'r mony wooing at her!

Her mither ware a tabbit mutch,
Her father was an honest dyker,
She's a black eyed wanton witch,
Ye winna shaw me mony like her,
So a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, so mony's wooing at her:

A kindly lass she is, I'm seer,
Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her,
And nae a swankie far nor near.
But tries wi' a' his might to win her:
They're wooing at her, fain would hae her,
Courting her but eanna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there's ow'r mony wooing at her.

For kindly tho' she be nae doubt,
She manna thole the marriage tether,
But likes to rove and rink about,
Like highland cowt amo' the heather;
Yet a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony's wooing at her.

It's seven year, and some guid mair,
Syn Dutch Mynheer made courtship till her,
A merchant bluff and fu' o' care,
Wi chuffy cheeks, and bags o' siller;
So Dutch Mynheer was wooing at her,
Courting her but cudna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, has ow'r mony wooing at her.

Neist to him came Baltic John ,
Stept up the brae, and leukit at her,
Syne wear his wa wi' heavy moan,
And in a month or twa forgat her;
Baltic John was wooing at her,
Courting her but cudna get her,
Filthy elf she's nae herself, wi' sae mony wooing at her.

Syne after him cam Yankie Doodle ,
Frae hyne ayont the muckle water;
Tho' Yankie's nae yet worth a boddle,
Wi' might and main he would be at her;
Yankie Doodle's wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony's wooing at her.

Now Monkey French is in a roar,
And swears that nane but he sall hae her,
Tho' he sud wade thro' bluid and gore,
It's nae the king sall keep him frae her:
So Monkey French is wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.

For France, nor yet her Flanders frien',
Need nae think that she'll come to them;
They've easten aft wi' a' their kin,
And grace and guid have flown fae them:
They're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,
Courting her, but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony's wooing at her.

A stately chiel, they ca' John Bull ,
Is unco thrang and glaikit wi' her;
And gin he cud get a' his wull,
There's nane can say what he wad gi'e her:
Johnny Bull is wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her,
Filthy Ted, she'll never wed, as lang's sae mony's wooing at her.

Even Irish Teague , ayont Belfast,
Wadna care to speir about her;
And swears, till he sall breathe his last,
He'll never happy be without her:
Irish Teague is wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her,
Bonny Lizzie Liberty has ow'r mony wooing at her.

But Donald Scot's the happy lad,
Tho' a' the lave sud try to rate him;
Whan he steps up the brae sae glad
She disna ken maist whare to set him:
Donald Scot is wooing at her,
Courting her, will maybe get her,
Bonny Lizzie Liberty, wow, sae mony's wooing at her.

Now Donald tak' a frien's advice,
I keen fu' weel ye fain wad hae her,
As ye are happy, sae be wise,
And ha'd ye wi' a smackie frae her:
Ye're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,
Courting her, will maybe get her,
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there's ow'r mony wooing at her.

Ye're weel, and wat'sna, lad, they're sayin'
Wi' getting leave to dwall aside her;
And gin ye had her a' your ain,
Ye might nae find it mows to guide her.
Ye're wooing at her, fain wad hae her,
Courting her, will maybe get her,
Cunning quean, she's ne'er be mine, as lang's sae mony's wooing at her.