Tibby Fowler in the Glen Has o'er mony wooing at her Tibby Fowler in the Glen Has o'er mony wooing at her. CHORUS: Wooing at her, powing at her, Courting at her, canna get her; Filthy Elf, it's for her pelf, That a' the lads are wooing at her. She has good studs in her lugs, Cockle-shells would suit her better, High-heel shoon and siller tags, And a' the lads are powing at her. Ten came east and ten came west, And ten came rowing o'er the water, Twall came down the lang Dykeside, There's twa and forty wooing at her. If a lass be ne'er sae black, Gie her but the penny siller, Set her upo' Tintock-tap, The wind will blaw a man till her. If a lass be ne'er sae fine, Gin she want the penny siller, She may stan' till ninety-nine Ere there come a man till her.
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