My Tocher’s The Jewel

O Meikle thinks my luve o’ my beauty,
And meikle thinks my luve o’ my kin;
But little thinks my luve I kenbrawlie
My tocher’s the jewel has charms for him.
It’s a’ for the apple he’ll nourish the tree,
It’s a’for the hinny he’ll cherish the bee,
My laddie’s sae meiklein luve wi’ the siller,
He cannahaeluveto spare for me.

Your proffer o’ luve’s an airle-penny,
My tocher’s the bargain ye wadbuy;
Butanye be crafty, I am cunnin’,
Saeye wi anitheryour fortune may try.
Ye’re like to the timmero’ yon rotten wood,
Ye’re like to the bark o’yonrotten tree,
Ye’ll slip fraeme like a knotless thread,
And ye’ll crackyour credit wi’maenor me.