This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
The lasses fain wad ha'e frae me
A sang, to keep them a' in glee,
While ne'er a ane I ha'e to gi'e,
But only Daintie Davie.
I learn'd it early in my youth,
When barley bannocks caused a drouth:
Whar cronies met to weet their mouth,
Our sang was Daintie Davie.
O, Daintie Davie is the thing;
I never kent a cantie spring,
That e'er deserved the Highland fling,
Sae weel as Daintie Davie.
When friends an' folk at bridals meet,
Their drouthie mou's and craigs to weet,
The story canna be complete
Without they've Daintie Davie.
Sae lasses tune your spinnets weel,
An' lilt it up wi' a' your skill,
There's nae strathspey nor Highland reel,
Comes up to Daintie Davie.
O, Daintie Davie, &c.
Though bardies a', in former times,
Ha'e stain'd my sang, wae worth their rhymes!
They had but little mense, wi' crimes,
To blast my Daintie Davie.
The rankest weeds the garden spoil,
When labour tak's the play a while;
The lamp gaes out for want o' oil,
And sae it fered wi' Davie.
O Daintie Davie, &c.
There's ne'er a bar but what's complete,
While ilka note is aye so sweet,
That auld and young get to their feet,
When they hear Daintie Davie.
Until the latest hour of time,
When music a' her power shall tine,
Each hill, an' dale, an' grove, shall ring
Wi' bonnie Daintie Davie.
O, Daintie Davie, &c.