Thou’s welcome wean, mischanter fa’ me,
If thoughts o’ thee, or yet thy Mamie,
Shall ever daunton me, or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca’ me
Tit-ta or daddy.
What tho’ they ca’ me fornicator,
An’ tease my name in kintry clatter:
The mair they tauk I’m kent the better,
E’en let them clash;
An auld wife’s tongue’s a feckless matter
To gie ane fash.
Welcome, my bonie, sweet, wee dochter!
Tho’ ye come here a wee unsought for,
And tho’ your comin I hae fought for
Baith kirk and queir;
Yet, by my faith, ye’re no unwrought for –
That I shall swear!
Wee image of my bonny Betty,
I fatherly will kiss and daut thee,
As dear an’ near my heart I set thee
Wi’ as gude will
As a’ the priests had seen me get thee
That’s out o’ hell.
Sweet fruit o’ mony a merry dint,
My funny toil is no a’ tint;
Tho’ ye came to the warl asklent,
Which fools may scoff at;
In my last plack thy part’s be in’t,
The better ha’f o’t.
Tho’ I should be the waur bestead,
Thou’s be as braw and bienly clad,
And thy young years as nicely bred
Wi’ education,
As onie brat o’ wedlock’s bed
In a’ thy station.
Gude grant that thou may ay inherit
Thy mither’s looks, and gracefu’ merit;
An’ thy poor worthless dady’s spirit,
Without his failins,
’Twill please me mair to see thee heir it
Than stocket mailens.
An’ if thou be what I wad ha’e thee,
An’ tak the counsel I sall gi’e thee,
A lovin’ father I’ll be to thee,
If thou be spar’d;
Thro’ a’ thy childish years I’ll e’e thee,
An’ think’t weel war’d.