This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
If ye gae up to yon hill-tap,
Ye'll there see bonie Peggy;
She kens her father is a laird,
And she forsooth's a leddy.
There Sophy tight, a lassie bright,
Besides a handsome fortune:
Wha canna win her in a night,
Has little art in courting.
Gae down by Faile, and taste the ale,
And tak a look o' Mysie;
She's dour and din, a deil within,
But aiblins she may please ye.
If she be shy, her sister try,
Ye'll maybe fancy Jenny,
If ye'll dispense wi' want o' sense,
She kens hersel she's bonie.
As ye gae up by yon hill-side,
Speer in for bonie Bessy;
She'll gi'e ye a beck, and bid ye light,
And handsomely address ye.
There's few sae bony, nane sae gude,
In a' King George' dominion;
If ye should doubt the truth o' this
It's Bessy's ain opinion!