Page:Jenny lass, my bonny bird.pdf/4

4 At right, tho' tir’d, with love a'fir'd,

he views the laes’ brow,

When morning comes, intead of drums,

the flails clap merrily,

To raie the maids out o’ their beds

to hake the Peae Strae

Fair Jenny-raie, put on her claie,

yne tun'd her voice to ing:

She ung ae weet with notes complete,

gar'd a' the echo's ring; An' a' the maids laid by their flails,

then danced merrily,

And bl's'd the hour that they had power

to hake the Peae Strae.

The muing wain, diturb'd in brain,

fat to her arms he flew,

And trove a while ti en wi' a mi'e,

aid Jenny redd in here: She cries righ' aft, I think ye're daft,

to temp a laie ae;

Ye'll do me wrang, pray let me gang

and hake the Peae Strae.

My heart, aid he, fair wounded be,

for thee, my Jenny fair;

Without a jet I get nae rest,

my bed it proves a nare:

Thy in age fine preent me yne,

an' takes a ret frae me;

An, while I dream, in your eteem,

you reckon me your fae.

Which is a ign ye will be mine,

dear Jenny ayna na',