Page:New song called The Kebbuckstone wedding.pdf/5

 BET OF BUCHLYVIE.

Twas on a bonny morn in May,

When fields and meadows round look’d gay,

I met a fair maid on the way,

A bit below Buchlyvie.

Her cheeks were like the new blown rose,

Her een were blacker than the sloes.

And auburn tresses grac’d the brows,

O bonny Bet Buchlyvie.

Quoth I my bonny lass ne’er fear,

But whar ye gaun, it I might spier,

Weel would I like to be your dear,

My bonny bet Buchlyvie.

dress you like a lady gay,

attire, at ball and play,

If ye’ll consent to come away,

Wi’ me and leave Buchlyvie.

I winna gang wi’ you she said,

I'm happier in my hame spun plaid,

Than though in silks i were arrayed

If absent frae Buchlyvie

I hae a lover o’ my ain,

And him though poor I’ll ne’er disdain,

’Tis lang since he the heart did gain

O’ his dear Bet Buchlyvie.