8
In hamely weeds she far exceeds
The fairest o’ the town;
Baith sage and gay confess it see,
Tho’ drest in russet gown.
The gamesome lamb, that sucks its dam,
Mair harmless canna be;
She has nae faut, (if sic ye ca‘t,)
Except her love for me:
The sparkling dew, o’ clearest hue,
Is like her shining een;
In shape and air, wha can compare
Wi’ my sweet lovely Jean?
O blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft
Amang the leafy trees;
Wi' gentle gale, frae muir and dale,
Bring hame the laden bees,
And bring the lassie back to me
That’s aye sae neat and clean;
Ae blink o’ her wad banish care,
Sae lovely is my Jean.
What sighs and vows, amang the knows,
Hae past atween as twa,
How fain to meet, how wae to part
That day she gaed awa!
The powers aboon can only ken,
To whom the heart is seen,
That nane can be sae dear to me,
As my sweet lovely Jean.
