To A Gaelic Air. I. There'S A Youth In This City, It Were A Great Pity That He Frae Our Lasses Shou'D Wander Awa: For He's Bonnie An' Braw, Weel-Favour'D An' A', And His Hair Has A Natural Buckle An' A'. His Coat Is The Hue Of His Bonnet Sae Blue; His Feck It Is White As The New-Driven Snaw; His Hose They Are Blae, And His Shoon Like The Slae. And His Clear Siller Buckles They Dazzle Us A'. Ii. For Beauty And Fortune The Laddie'S Been Courtin'; Weel-Featured, Weel-Tocher'D, Weel-Mounted And Braw; But Chiefly The Siller, That Gars Him Gang Till Her, The Pennie'S The Jewel That Beautifies A'. There'S Meg Wi' The Mailen That Fain Wad A Haen Him; And Susie, Whose Daddy Was Laird O' The Ha'; There'S Lang-Tocher'D Nancy Maist Fetters His Fancy, But The Laddie'S Dear Sel' He Lo'Es Dearest Of A'.