Genty Tibby, and sonsy Nelly, pp.78-79.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

To the Tune of, Tibby Fowler in the Glen


TIBBY has a fore of charms, 

Her genty shape our fancy warms; 

How strangely can her sma’ white arms 

Fetter the lad who looks but at her? 

Frae ‘er ancle to her slender waste, 

These sweets conceal’d invite to dawt her; 

Her rosy cheek, and rising breast, 

Gar ane’s mouth gush bowt fu’ o’ Water. 


NEELY‘s gawsy, saft and gay, 

Fresh as the lucken flowers in May

Ilk ane that sees her, crys, ah hey 

She’s bonny! O I wonder at her

The dimples of her chin and cheek, 

And limbs sae plump invite to dawt her; 

Her lips sae sweet, and skin sae sleek, 

Gar mony mouths beside mine water. 


Now strike my finger in a bore, 

My wyson with the maiden shore, 

Gin I can tell whilk I am for, 

When these twa stars appear thegither, 

O love! why dost thou gi’e thy fires 

Sae large, while we’re oblig’d to neither? 

Our spacious sauls immense desires, 

And ay be in a hankerin swither. 


TIBBY’s shape and airs are fine, 

And Nelly’s beauties are divine: 

But since they canna baith be mine, 

Ye Gods, give ear to my petition, 

Provide a good lad for the tane, 

But let it be with this provison, 

I get the other to my lane, 

In prospect plano and fruition. 

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