When innocent pastime our pleasure did crown,
Upon a green meadow, or under a tree,
Ere Annie became a fine lady in town,
How lovely, and loving, and bonny was she!
Rouze up thy reason my beautifu' Annie,
Let ne'er a new whim ding thy fancy a-jee;
O! as thou art bonny, be faithfu' and canny,
And favour thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee.

Does the death of a lintwhite give Annie the spleen?
Can tyning of trifles be uneasy to thee?
Can lap-dogs and monkies draw tears frae these een,
That look with indifference on poor dying me?
Rouze up thy reason, my beautiful Annie,
And dinna prefer a paroquet to me;
O! as thou art bonny, be prudent and canny,
And think on thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee.

Ah! shou'd a new gown, or a Flanders-lace head,
Or yet a wee coatie, tho' never sae fine,
Gar thee grow forgetfu', and let his heart bleed,
That anes had some hope of purchasing thine?
Rouze up thy reason, my beautifu' Annie,
And dinna prefer your fleegeries to me;
O! as thou art bonny, be solid and canny,
And tent a true lover that doats upon thee.

Shall a Paris edition of new-fangle Sanny,
Tho' gilt o'er wi' laces and fringes he be,
By adoring himself, be admir'd by fair Annie,
And aim at these bennisons promis'd to me?
Rouze up thy reason, my beautifu' Annie,
And never prefer a light dancer to me;
O! as thou art bonny, be constant and canny,
Love only thy Jamie, wha doats upon thee.

O! think my dear charmer, on ilka sweet hour,
That slade away saftly between thee and me,
Ere squirrels, or beaus, or fopp'ry had power
To rival my love, and impose upon thee.
Rouze up thy reason, my beautifu' Annie,
And let thy desires be a' center'd in me;
O! as thou art bonny, be faithfu' and canny,
And love him wha 's langing to centre in thee.