There’s a Youth In This City (Poem by Robert Burns)

There’s a Youth In This City (1)

By Robert Burns

            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’.

There’s a Youth In This City (2)

            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’.

Note:

"This air," says Burns, "is claimed by Neil Gow, who calls it a Lament for his Brother. The first half-stanza of the song is old: the rest is mine." They are both in the Museum.