The Book of Scottish Song/Tibbie Fowler

Tibbie Fowler.

[In the Tea-Table Miscellany, Ramsay has a song "to the tune of Tibbie Fowler in the Glen," which proves that the air, at least, is old. A fragment of the words is given in Herd's collection of 1776, but the first complete copy appeared in the 5th vol. of Johnson's Museum. The authorship has been ascribed to a "Rev. Dr. Strachan, late minister of Carnwath;" but David Laing says that there has been no minister of Carnwath of that name for at least the last three hundred years.]

Tibbie Fowler o' the Glen,
There's ower mony wooing at her;
Tibbie Fowler o' the Glen,
There's ower mony wooing at her.
Wooin' at her, pu'in' at her,
Courtin' her, and canna get her;
Filthy elf, it's for her pelf
That a' the lads are wooin' at her.

Ten cam' east, and ten cam' west;
Ten cam' rowin' ower the water;
Twa cam' down the lang dyke-side:
There's twa-and-thirty wooin' at her.

There's seven but, and seven ben,
Seven in the pantry wi' her;
Twenty head about the door:
There's ane-and forty wooin' at her'

She's got pendles in her lugs;
Cockle-shells wad set her better!
High-heel'd shoon, and siller tags,
{gap|1em}}And a' the lads are wooin' at her.

Be a lassie e'er sae black,
Gin she ha'e the name o' siller,
Set her up on Tintock tap,
The wind will blaw a man till her.

Be a lassie e'er so fair,
An' she want the penny siller,
A flie may fell her in the air,
Before a man be even'd till her.

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