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Here鈥檚 to thy health my bonie lass

A song by Robert Burns, written in 1780.

Here's to thy health, my bonie lass,
Gudenight and joy be wi' thee:
I'll come nae mair to thy bower-door,
To tell thee that I loe thee.
O dinna think, my pretty pink,
But I can live without thee:
I vow and swear, I dinna care,
How lang ye look about ye.

Thou'rt aye sae free informing me
Thou hast nae mind to marry:
I'll be as free informing thee,
Nae time hae I to tarry.
I ken thy friends try ilka means
Frae wedlock to delay thee;
Depending on some higher chance,
But fortune may betray thee.

I ken they scorn my low estate,
But that does never grieve me;
For I'm as free as any he;
Sma' siller will relieve me.
I'll count my health my greatest wealth,
Sae lang as I'll enjoy it:
I'll fear nae scant, I'll bode nae want,
As lang's I get employment.

But far off fowls hae feathers fair,
And ay until ye try them:
Tho' they seem fair, still have a care,
They may prove as bad as I am.
But at twal' at night, when the moon shines bright,
My dear, I'll come and see thee;
For the man that loves his mistress weel,
Nae travel makes him weary.

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