Tune—"Tibbie Fowler i' the Glen."
I.
There lives a lassie i' the braes,
And Lizzy Liberty they ca' her,
When she has on her Sunday's claes,
Ye never saw a lady brawer;
So a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her;
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!
II.
Her mither ware a tabbit mutch,
Her father was an honest dyker,
She 's a black-eyed wanton witch,
Ye winna shaw me mony like her:
So a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her;
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her!
III.
A kindly lass she is, I 'm seer,
Has fowth o' sense and smeddum in her,
And nae a swankie far nor near,
But tries wi' a' his might to win her:
They 're wooing at her, fain would hae her,
Courting her, but canna get her;
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, there 's ow'r mony wooing at her!
IV.
For kindly though she be, nae doubt,
She manna thole the marriage tether,
But likes to rove and rink about,
Like Highland cowt amo' the heather:
Yet a' the lads are wooing at her,
Courting her, but canna get her;
Bonny Lizzy Liberty, wow, sae mony 's wooing at her.