The Book of Scottish Song/Gi'e me a lass

Gi'e me a lass.

[Written by Allan Ramsay, to supplant old and coarse words to the tune of "The Lass wi' the Lump o' Land." This appears in the 2d vol. of the Tea-Table Miscellany, and also, with the original melody, in the Orpheus Caledonius, 1725.]

Gi'e me a lass with a lump o' land,
And we for life shall gang thegither;
Tho' daft or wise, I'll ne'er demand,
Or black or fair, it maksna whether.
I'm aff with wit, and beauty will fade,
And blood alane's nae worth a shilling;
But she that's rich, her market's made,
For ilka charm about her's killing.

Gi'e me a lass with a lump o' land,
And in my bosom I'll hug my treasure;
Gin I had ance her gear in my hand,
Should love turn dowf, it will find pleasure.
Laugh on wha likes: but there's my hand,
I hate with poortith, though bonnie, to meddle;
Unless they bring cash, or a lump o' land,
They'se ne'er get me to dance to their fiddle.

There's meikle gude love in bands and bags;
And siller and gowd's a sweet complexion;
But beauty and wit and virtue, in rags,
Have tint the art of gaining affection:
Love tips his arrows with woods and parks,
And castles, and riggs, and muirs, and meadows;
And naething can catch our modern sparks,
But weel-tocher'd lasses, or jointured widows.

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