THERE was a lad was born in Kyle,
But what na day o' what na style,
I doubt it 's hardly worth the while
To be sae nice wi' Robin.
Robin was a rovin' Boy,
Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin';
Robin was a rovin' Boy,
Rantin' rovin' Robin.

Leeze me on thy curly pow,
Bonie Davie, daintie Davie;
Leeze me on thy curly pow,
Thou ‘se ay my daintie Davie

Our monarch's hindmost year but ane
Was five-and-twenty days begun,
'Twas then a blast o' Janwar' Win'
Blew hansel in on Robin.

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.

He 'll hae misfortunes great and sma',
But ay a heart aboon them a';
He 'll be a credit till us a',
We'll a' be proud o' Robin.

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."

Guid faith quo' scho I doubt you Stir,
Ye’ll gar the lasses lie aspar;
But twenty fauts ye may hae waur----
So blessins on thee Robin.