Awa` wi` your witchcraft o` Beauty`s alarms,
The slender bit Beauty you grasp in your arms,
O, gie me the lass that has acres o` charms,
O, gie me the lass wi` the weel-stockit farms.
Chorus-Then hey, for a lass wi` a tocher,
Then hey, for a lass wi` a tocher;
Then hey, for a lass wi` a tocher;
The nice yellow guineas for me.
Your Beauty`s a flower in the morning that blows,
And withers the faster, the faster it grows:
But the rapturous charm o` the bonie green knowes,
Ilk spring they`re new deckit wi` bonie white yowes.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.
And e`en when this Beauty your bosom hath blest
The brightest o` Beauty may cloy when possess`d;
But the sweet, yellow darlings wi` Geordie impress`d,
The langer ye hae them, the mair they`re carest.
Then hey, for a lass, &c.