Lucky Nancy

While fops, in saft Italian verse,

Ilk fair ane's een and breist rehearse

While sangs abound, and wit is scarce,

These lines I have indited.

But neither darts nor arrows, here,

Venus nor Cupid, shall appear;

Although with these fine sounds, I swear,

The maidens are delighted.

I was aye telling you,

Lucky Nancy, Lucky Nancy,

Auld springs wad ding the new,

But ye wad never trow me.

Nor snaw with crimson will I mix,

To spread upon my lassie's cheeks;

And syne the unmeaning name prefix,

Miranda, Cloe, Phillis;

I'll fetch nae simile frae Jove,

My height of ecstacy to prove,

Nor sighing—thus—present my love

With roses eke and lilies.

But, stay—I had amaist forgot

My mistress, and my sang to boot,

And that's an unco faut, I wot;

But, Nancy, 'tis nae matter:

Ye see I clink my verse wi' rhyme,

And ken ye that atones the crime;

Forbye, how sweet my numbers chime,

And glide away like water!

Now ken, my reverend sonsy fair,

Thy runkled cheeks, and lyart hair,

Thy half-shut een, and hoddling air,

Are a' my passion's fuel;

Nae skyring gowk, my dear, can see,

Or love, or grace, or heaven in thee;

Yet thou hast charms enew for me;

Then smile, and be na cruel.

Leeze me on thy snawy pow,

Lucky Nancy, Lucky Nancy;

Dryest wood will eithest low,

And, Nancy, sae will ye now.

Troth, I have sung the sang to you,

Which ne'er anither bard wad do;

Hear, then, my charitable vow,

Dear venerable Nancy:

But, if the world my passion wrang,

And say ye only live in sang,

Ken, I despise a slandering tongue,

And sing to please my fancy

Leeze me on, &c.