Page:Seven select songs.pdf/7



And e'en when this beauty your bosom
 * has blest,

The brightest of beauty may cloy when possest But the sweet yellow darlings wi' Geordie
 * die imprest,

The langer ye hae them the mair they're carest.
 * Then hey, &c.

I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
 * A gate I fear I'll deatly rue;

I gat my death frae twa sweet cen,
 * Twa lovely een o'bonny blue.

Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
 * Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,

Her heaving bosom lily white;
 * It was hier een sae bonny blue.

She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd
 * She charm'd my saul I wist na how;

And ay the stound, the deadly wound,
 * Cats frae her een sae bonnie blue.

But spare to speak, and spare to speed,
 * She'll arblins listen to my vow:

Should she refuse I'II lay my dead
 * To her twa een sae bonnie blue.