There was a lad was born in Kyle,
But whatna day o’ whatna style,
I doubt it’s hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi’ Robin.
Chor. — Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’, rovin’, rantin’, rovin’,
Robin was a rovin’ boy,
Rantin’, rovin’, Robin!
Our monarch’s hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun^2,
‘Twas then a blast o’ Janwar’ win’
Blew hansel in on Robin.
Robin was, &c.
The gossip keekit in his loof,
Quo’ scho, «Wha lives will see the proof,
This waly boy will be nae coof:
I think we’ll ca’ him Robin.»
Robin was, &c.
«He’ll hae misfortunes great an’ sma’,
But aye a heart aboon them a’,
He’ll be a credit till us a’-
We’ll a’ be proud o’ Robin.»
Robin was, &c.
«But sure as three times three mak nine,
I see by ilka score and line,
This chap will dearly like our kin’,
So leeze me on thee! Robin.»
Robin was, &c.
«Guid faith,» quo’, scho, «I doubt you gar
The bonie lasses lie aspar;
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur
So blessins on thee! Robin.»
Robin was, &c.