I am a young Lass in my prime,my age it is just twenty-one;I think it a very fit timeto buckle myself to a man:I've baith bread and kitchen nae scent,I gang i' the fashion su' braw;Yet still I've an unco bit want,that fashes me mair than them a'.
CHORUS.For I'm ripe, an' ready, an' a',ready, an' ripe, an' a';I wish I may get a bit mau,before that my beauty gae wa'.A' day as I spin wi' my mither,and lilt over mysel' a bit sang,How Lasses an' Lads gang thegither,O fils but it gars me think lang!In bed I am like to gang crazy,I dream, I row an' I gawnt,Where I might be lying su' easy,were't no for this unco bit want.For I'm ripe, &c.
Young Andrew comes whiles in the glomin',an' draws in a stool by my side,But he's ay sae flead for a woman,that aften his face he maun hide:I steer up my temper-string gayly,an' while a bit verse will rant;Young women you ken maun be wyllie,that mak up that unco bit want.For I'm ripe &c.
Am thinkin' sometimes, when he's rising,to mak a bit step to the door,An' raise a wee crack that's entising,perhaps that he ken na afore.An' O if the laddie wad tak me,an' raise a bit canty wee rant;There's naething mair pleasure wad gie me,for that's just my unco bit want.For I'm ripe &c.
