If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mammie,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,
My sweet we lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
Tyta or daddie.
Tho' now they ca' me fornicator,
An' tease my name in countra clatter,
The mair they talk, I kend the better,
E'en let them clash;
An auld wife,s tongue's a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.
Welcome! my bonie, sweet, wee dochter,
Tho' ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho' your comin' I hae fought for,
Baith kirk and queir;
Yet, by my faith, ye,re no unwrought for,
That I shall swear!
Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a'tint,
Tho' thou cam to the warl' askient'
Which fools may scoff ar;
In my last plack thy part's be in't
The better ha'f o't.
Tho' I should be the waur bestead,
Thou's be as braw and bienly clad,
And thy young years as nicely bred
wi' education,
Ass onie brat o; wedlock's bed,
In a; thy station.
Wee image o' my bonie lasie
As fatherly I kiss and daut thee,
As dear and near my heart I set thee
That's out o' hell.
Grant that thou may aye inherit
Thy Mither's person, grace an' merit,
An' thy poor, worthless daddy's spirit,
Without his failins,
'Twill please me mair to see thee heir it,
Than stockit mailens.
Fr if thou be what I wad hae thee,
And tak the counsel I shall gie thee
The cost nor shame o't,
But be a loving father to thee,
And brag the name o't.
--Robbie Burns
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