HAD
MY
DADDIE
LEFT
ME
GEAR
ENOUGH
.
Air
—
My
Daddy
left
me
gear
eneuch
.
HAD
my
daddie
left
me
gear
enough
,
Whene'er
I'd
gane
to
kirk
or
fair
,
Ilk
mither
had
held
out
her
loof
,
And
led
me
to
her
son
and
heir
.
Now
,
gin
a
canker'd
minny
comes
And
sees
her
dawty
set
by
me
,
She
looks
as
sour
as
Gala's
plumbs
,
And
wonders
what
the
fool
can
see
.
Hout
!
man
,
come
here
,
ye're
surely
blind
,
Do
ye
no
see
Miss
Fowler
there
?
A
bonnier
lass
ye
canna
find
;
I
wat
there's
nae
sic
dancer
here
.
Troth
!
some
folk
might
hae
staid
away
,
And
nae
ane
wad
hae
mist
them
yet
,
For
fient
a
chiel
I've
seen
the
day
Has
spear'd
gin
she
can
dance
a
fit
.
Then
honest
Jock
loupt
on
the
floor
,
And
cried
—
We'll
a'
be
canty
yet
!
And
if
some
grudging
souls
be
here
,
O
may
they
never
dance
a
fit
!
And
let
them
ken
,
if
goud's
their
pride
,
It's
no
won
gear
that's
counted
yet
,
They're
here
wad
take
a
poundless
bride
Rise
up
,
my
lass
,
let's
dance
a
fit
.