The Book of Scottish Song/My love she's but a lassie

My love she's but a lassie.

[James Hogg.—For the original song of "My love she's but a lassie yet," see page 512.]

My love she's but a lassie yet,
A lightsome lovely lassie yet;
⁠It scarce wad do
⁠To sit an' woo
Down by the stream sae glassy yet,
But there's a braw time coming yet,
When we may pang a-roaming yet;
⁠An' hint wi' glee
⁠O' joys to be,
When fa's the modest gloaming yet.

She's neither proud nor saucy yet,
She's neither plump nor gaucy yet;
⁠But just a jinking,
⁠Bonnie blinking,
Hilty-skilty lassie yet.
But O, her artless smile's mair sweet
Than hinny or than marmalete;
⁠An' right or wrang,
⁠Ere it be lang,
I'll bring her to a parley yet.

I'm jealous o' what blesses her,
The very breeze that kisses her,
⁠The flowery beds
⁠On which she treads,
Though wae for ane that misses her.
Then O to meet my lassie yet,
Up in yon glen sae grassy yet;
⁠For all I see
⁠Are nought to me,
Save her that's but a lassie yet!

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