There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o’ whatnastyle,
I doubt it’s hardly worththe while
To be saenice wi’Robin.
Chor. – Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’, rovin’, rantin’, rovin’,
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’, rovin’, Robin!
Our monarch’s hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun^2,
‘Twas then a blast o’ Janwar’ win’
Blew hanselin on Robin.
Robin was, &c.
The gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo’scho, “Wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be naecoof:
I think we’ll ca’him Robin.”
Robin was, &c.
“He’ll hae misfortunes great an’sma’,
But aye a heart aboonthem a’,
He’ll be a credit tillus a’-
We’ll a’be proud o’Robin.”
Robin was, &c.
“But sure as three times three maknine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chapwill dearly like our kin’,
So leeze me onthee! Robin.”
Robin was, &c.
“Guid faith,” quo’, scho, “I doubt you gar
The bonielasses lie aspar;
Buttwenty fauts ye may haewaur
So blessins on thee! Robin.”
Robin was, &c.