Page:Flowers of the forest (4).pdf/6

 And a’ to pleasure our gudeman,

For he’s baith leal and true.

For there's nae luck, &c.

Sae sweet his voice. sae smooth his tongue,

His breath’s like caller air;

His very tread has music in’t,

As he comes up the stair.

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I’m downright dizzy wi’ the joy,

In troth I’m like to greet.

For there’s nae luck, &c.

The cauld blasts o’ the winter wind,

That thirl’d thro’ my heart,

They’re a’ blawn by, I hae him safe,

Till death we’ll never part.

But what puts parting in my head?

It may be far awa;

The present moment is our ain,

The neist we never saw.

Since Colin's weel, I’m weel content;

I hae nae mair to crare.

Could I but live to mak him blest,

I’m blest aboon the lave.

And will I see his face again?

And will I hear him speak?

I’m downright dizzy wi’ the thought

In troth, I’m like to greet.