Song Corn Rigs Are Bonny

My Patie is a lover gay, His mind is never muddy, His breath is sweeter than new hay, His face is fair and ruddy. His shape is handsome, middle size; He's stately in his wawking; The shining of his een surprise; 'Tis heaven to hear him tawking.

Last night I met him on a bawk, Where yellow corn was growing, There mony a kindly word he spake, That set my heart a glowing. He kiss'd and vow'd he would be mine, And loo'd me best of ony; That gars me like to sing sinsyne, O corn rigs are bonny.

Let maidens of a silly mind, Refuse what maist they're wanting, Since we for yielding were design'd, We chastly should be granting; Then I'll comply and marry Pate, And syne my cockernony, He's free to touzle air or late, Where corn rigs are bonny.