Saw yo that lass wi' her wicked een?
That's awr Annie.
Shoo's th' pet o'th' haase, we call her 'queen,'
Shoo's th' bonniest wench wor ivver seen;
Shoo laffs an frolics all th' day throo, -
Shoo does just what shoo likes to do, -
But then shoo's loved, - an knows it too; -
That's awr Annie.
If ivver yo meet wi' a saucy maid, -
That's awr Annie.
Shoo's sharp as onny Sheffield blade,
Shoo puts all others into th' shade.
At times shoo'll sing or laff or cry,
An nivver give a reason why:
Sometimes shoo's cheeky, sometimes shy;
That's awr Annie.
Roamin throo meadows green an sweet,
That's awr Annie;
Trippin away wi' fairy feet,
Noa fairer flaar yo'll ivver meet;
Or in some trees cooil shade shoo caars
Deckin her golden curls wi' flaars;
Singin like happy burd for haars,
That's awr Annie.
Chock full o' mischief, aw'll admit,
That's awr Annie; -
But shoo'li grow steadier in a bit,
Shoo'll have mooar wisdom, an less wit.
But could aw have mi way i' this,
Aw'd keep her ivver as shoo is, -
Th' same innocent an artless miss,
That's awr Annie.
Child ov mi old age, dearest, best!
That's awr Annie;
Cloise to mi weary bosom prest,
Far mooar nor others aw feel blest; -
Jewels an gold are nowt to me,
For when shoo's sittin o' mi knee,
Ther's nubdy hawf as rich as me,
Unless it's Annie.