No more I'll court the town-bred fair,
⁠Who shines in artificial beauty;
For native charms without compare,
⁠Claim all my love, respect, and duta.

​Oh! my bonny Bet, sweet blossom
⁠Was I a king so proud to wear thee,
From off the verdant couch I'd bear thee,
⁠To grace thy faithful lover's bosom

Yet ask me where those beauties lie
⁠I cannot say in smile or dimple,
In blooming cheek or redient eye,
⁠'Tis happy nature wild and simple.
⁠⁠Oh! my bonny Bet, &c.

Let dainty beaux for ladies pine,
⁠And sigh in numbers trite and common;
Ye gods! one darling wish be mine,
⁠And all I ask is lovely woman.
⁠⁠Oh! my bonny Bet, &c.

Come dearest girl the rosy bowl,
⁠Like thy bright eye with pleasure dancing;
My heaven art thou so take my soul,
⁠With rapture every sense entrancing.
⁠⁠Oh! my bonny Bet, &c.