There's A Youth In This City.

To a Gaelic Air. I.                     There's a youth in this city,                     It were a great pity         That he frae our lasses shou'd wander awa:                     For he's bonnie an' braw,                     Weel-favour'd an' a',         And his hair has a natural buckle an' a'.                     His coat is the hue                     Of his bonnet sae blue;         His feck it is white as the new-driven snaw;                     His hose they are blae,                     And his shoon like the slae.         And his clear siller buckles they dazzle us a'. II.                     For beauty and fortune                     The laddie's been courtin';         Weel-featured, weel-tocher'd, weel-mounted and braw;                     But chiefly the siller,                     That gars him gang till her,         The pennie's the jewel that beautifies a'.                     There's Meg wi' the mailen                     That fain wad a haen him;         And Susie, whose daddy was laird o' the ha';                     There's lang-tocher'd Nancy                     Maist fetters his fancy,         But the laddie's dear sel' he lo'es dearest of a'.