Yestreen I met you on the moor,
Ye spake na, but gaed by like stoure !
Ye geck at me because I'm poor,
But fient a hair care I.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day
    Ye would na been sae shy;
    For lack o' gear ye lightly me,
    But troth I care na by.

 ... 

I doubt na, lass, but ye may think,
Because ye hae the name o' clink,
That ye can please me at a wink,
Whene'er ye like to try.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...

But sorrow tak' him that's sae mean,
Although his pouch o' coin were clean,
Wha follows ony saucy quean
That looks sae proud and high !
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...

Although a lad were e'er sae smart,
If he but want the miser's dirt,
Ye'll cast your head anither airt,
And answer him fu' dry.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...

But if he hae the name o' gear,
Ye'll fasten to him like a brier,
Tho' hardly he, for sense or lear,
Be better than the kye.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...

But Tibbie, lass, tak' my advice:
Your daddie's gear maks you sae nice,
The deil a ane would speir your price,
Were ye as poor as I.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...

There lives a lass in yonder park,
I would na gie her under sark
For thee wi' a' thy thousand mark;
Ye need na look sae high.
    O Tibbie! I hae seen the day...