Page:'Twas on the morn of sweet May Day (1).pdf/4

 For there the bonnie lassie lives,

The lass that I loo best;

Tho' wild woods grow, and rivers row,

Wi' monie a hill between,

Baith day and night, my fancy's flight

Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flow'r,

Sae lovely, sweet, and fair;

I hear her voice in ilka bird,

Wi' music charm the air;

There's not a bonnie flow'r that springs,

By fountain, shaw, or green,

Nor yet a bonnie bird that sings,

But minds me o' my Jean.

Upon the banks o' flowing Clyde

The lasses busk them braw;

But when their best they hae put on,

My Jeanie dings them a';

In hamely weeds she far exceeds

The fairest o' the town;

Baith sage and gay confess it say,

Tho' drest in russet gown.

The gamesome lamb, that sucks its dam,

Mair harmless canna be;

She has nae faut, (if sic ye ca't,)

Except her love for me:

The sparkling dew, o' clearest hue,

Is like her shining een;