O STEER her up, ad' had her gaun,
Her mither 's at the mill, jo;
An' gin she winna tak a man
E'en let her tak her will, jo.
First shore her wi' a gentle kiss
And ca' anither gill, jo;
An' gin she tak the thing amiss
E'en let her flyte her fill, jo.
O steer her up, and be na blate,
An' gin she tak it ill, jo,
Then lea’e the lassie till her fate,
And time nae langer spill, jo:
Ne'er break your heart for ae rebute,
But think upon it still, jo,
That gin the lassie winna do 't,
Ye'll fin’ anither will, jo.