O steer her up, an’ haudher gaun,
Her mither’s at the mill, jo;
An’ gin she winna tak a man,
E’en let her tak her will, jo.
First shoreher wi’a gentle kiss,
And ca’anither gill, jo;
An’ gin she tak the thing amiss,
E’enlet her flyteher fill, jo.
O steer her up, an’ be nablate,
An’gin she takit ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie tillher fate,
And time naelanger spill, jo:
Ne’er break your heart for aerebute,
Butthink upon it still, jo:
That ginthe lassie winnado’t,
Ye’ll find anitherwill, jo.