Send a horse to the water, ye'll no mak' him drink;
Send a fule to the College, ye'll no mak' him think;
Send a craw to the singin', an' still he will craw;
An' the wee laird had nae rummelgumpshion ava.
Yet he is the pride o' his fond mother's e'e,
In body or mind nae faut can she see;
" He's a fell clever lad, an' a bonnie wee man, "
Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.
An' oh! she's a haverin' Lucky, I trow,
An' oh! she's a haverin' Lucky, I trow;
" He's a fell clever lad, an' a bonnie wee man, "
Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.

His legs they are bow'd, his e'en they do glee,
His wig, whiles it's aff, an' when on, it's ajee;
He's braid as he's lang, — an' ill-faur'd is he,
A dafter like body I never did see.
An' yet for this cratur, she says I am deem',
When that I deny, she's fear'd at my leein'; —
Obliged to pit up wi' this sair defamation,
I'm liken to dee wi' griet and vexation.
An' oh! she's a haverin' Lucky, &c.

An' her clish-ma-clavers gang a' thro' the toun,
An' the wee lairdie trows I'll hang or I'll droun;
Wi' his gawkie-like face, yestreen he did say,
" I'll maybe tak' you, for Bess I'll no hae,
Nor Mattie, nor Effie, nor lang-legged Jeanie,
Nor Nelly, nor Katie, nor skirlin' wee Beenie. "
I stappit my ears, ran aff in a fury —
I'm thinkin' to bring them afore Judge an' Jury.
For oh! what a randy auld Lucky is she, &c.

Frien's! gie yere advice! — I'll follow yere counsel —
Maun I speak to' the Provost, or honest Toun Council?
Or the writers, or lawyers, or doctors? now say;
For the law o' the Lucky I shall an' will hae.
The hale toun at me are jibin' an' jeerin';
For a leddy like me, it's really past bearin';
The Lucky maun now hae done wi' her claverin',
For I'll no pit up wi' her, nor her haverin'!
For oh! she's a randy, I trow, I trow;
For oh! she's a randy, I trow, I trow;
" He's a fell clever lad, an' a bonnie wee man, "
Is aye the beginnin' an' end o' her sang.