I neither gat plenishing, sillar, nor land,
Wi' the bonny wee lassie that ga'e me her hand;
But I gat a kind heart, and lovely black e'e,
And that was worth manors and mailings to me.

I might had a wife wi' a boarding school air,
Bedizen'd wi' trinkets and pearlins sae rare;
A weel stockit purse, and 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 of her voice and the blink of her e'e,
And her smile sae bewitching are treasure to me.

When absent frae her, how my bliss is impair'd,
Tho' I dine wi' the leddies, and drink wi' the laird;
But to meet her again, and her sweet bairnies three,
Is worth mailings, and manors, and kingdoms to me.