This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Thou's welcome, wean! mishanter fa' me,
If ought of thee, or of thy mammy,
Shall ever danton me, or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
Tit-ta or daddy.
Wee image of my bonie Betty,
I fatherly will kiss and daut thee,
As dear and near my heart I set thee
Wi' as gude will,
As a' the priests had seen me get thee
That's out o' hell.
What tho' they ca' me fornicator,
An' tease my name in kintra clatter:
The mair they talk I'm kent the better,
E'en let them clash;
An auld wife's tongue's a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.
Sweet fruit o' monie a merry dint,
My funny toil is now a' tint,
Sin' thou came to the world asklent,
Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part's be in't—
The better haff o't.
An' if thou be what I wad hae thee,
An' tak the counsel I shall gie thee,
A lovin' father I'll be to thee,
If thou be spar'd;
Thro' a' thy childish years I'll ee thee,
An' think't weel war'd.
Gude grant that thou may aye inherit
Thy mither's person, grace, an' merit,
An' thy poor worthless daddy's spirit,
Without his failins,
'Twill please me mair to hear an' see't,
Than stockit mailins.