I.

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'.