I neither gat plenishing, siller, nor land,
Wi' the bonnie wee lassie that gae me her hand;
But I gat a kind heart, an' a lovely black e'e,
And these were worth manors and mailings to me.
I might had a wife wi' a boardin'-school air,
Bedizon'd wi' trinkets and pearlins sae rare;
A weel stockit purse, an' a lang pedigree,
But these without true love wad ne'er suited me.
Commend me to Jeanie, there's grace in her air,
And purity reigns in her bosom sae fair;
The tones o' her voice, and the blink o' her e'e,
An' her smiles sae bewitchin' are treasures to me.
When absent frae her how my bliss is impair'd.
Tho' I dine wi' the leddies an' drink wi' the laird;
But to meet her again, an' her sweet bairnies three
Is worth manors, an' mailings, an' kingdoms to me.