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O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day
TUNE: Invercauld's Reel

 

Burns Original

Standard English Translation

 

O Tibbie, I Hae Seen The Day

Chorus
O Tibbie, I hae seen the day,
Ye wadna been sae shy!
For laik o' gear ye lightly me,
But, trowth, I care na by.
1.
Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spak na, but gaed by like stoure!
Ye geck at me because I'm poor -
But fient a hair care I!
2.
When comin hame on Sunday last,
Upon the road as I cam past,
Ye snufft an' gae your head a cast -
But, trowth, I care't na by!
3.
I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.
4.
But sorrow tak him that's sae mean,
Altho' his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows onie saucy quean,
That looks sae proud and high!
5.
Altho' a lad were e'er sae smart,
If that he want the yellow dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.
6.
But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he for sense of lear
Be better than the kye.
7.
But, Tibbie, lass, tak my advice:
Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice,
The Deil a ane wad spier your price,
Were ye as poor as I.
8.
There lives a lass beside yon park,
I'd rather hae her in her sark
Than you wi' a' your thousand mark,
That gars you look sae high.

 

O Tibbie, I Have Seen The Day

Chorus
O Tibbie, I have seen the day,
You would not been so shy!
For lack of wealth you scorn me,
But, truth, I care not although you do.

Last evening I met you on the moor,
You spoke not, but went by like blowing dust!
You toss your head at me because I am poor -
But not a hair care I!

When coming home on Sunday last,
Upon the road as I came past,
You sniffed and gave your head a cast -
But, truth, I care not although you do.

I doubt not, girl, but you may think,
Because you have the name of wealth,
That you can please me at a wink,
When ever you like to try.

But sorrow take him that is so mean,
Although his pouch of coin were clean,
Who follows any saucy young woman,
That looks so proud and high!

Although a lad were ever so smart,
If that he wanted the yellow dirt (gold or wealth),
You will cast your head another direction,
And answer him full dry.

But if he has the name of wealth,
You will fasten to him like a brier,
Though hardly he for sense of learning
Be better than the cattle.

But, Tibbie, girl, take my advice:
Your daddy's wealth makes you so nice,
The Devil is one would ask your price,
Were you as poor as I.

There lives a girl beside yonder park,
I would rather have her in her shirt
Than you with all your thousand mark,
That makes you look so high.

 

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