O STEER her up, an haud her gaun,
Her mithers at the mill, jo;
An gin she winna tak a man,
Een let her tak her will, jo.
First shore her wi a gentle kiss,
And ca anither gill, jo;
An gin she tak the thing amiss,
Een let her flyte her fill, jo.
O steer her up, an be na blate,
An gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then leave the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Neer break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo:
That gin the lassie winna dot,
Yell find anither will, jo.
