Page:Blackbird.pdf/21

 Now to conclude—his grey breeks,
 * I'll sing them up wi' mirth an' glee;

Here's luck to a the grey steeks
 * That shows themsels upon the knee;

And if wi' health I'm spared
 * To see the length'ning simmer day,

They's a' be new repaired,
 * The vera best o' bonny grey.

The lass of Patie's mill,
 * So bonny, blythe and gay,

In spite of all my skill,
 * She stole my heart away.

When tedding out the lay,
 * Bare headed on the green,

Love 'midst her locks did play,
 * And wanton'd in her een.

Her arms white, round, and smooth;
 * Breasts in their rising dawn;

To age it would give youth,
 * To press them with her han'.

Through all my spirits ran
 * An ecstacy of bliss,

When I such sweetness fand
 * Wrapt in a balmy kiss.