The Book of Scottish Song/O lassie I lo'e dearest

O lassie I lo’e dearest.

[J. Burtt.]

O lassie I lo'e dearest!
Mair fair to me than fairest,
Mair rare to me than rarest;
⁠How sweet to think o' thee;
When blythe the blue e'ed dawnin'
Steals saftly o'er the lawnin',
And furls night's sable awnin',
⁠I love to think o' thee.

An' while the honied dew-drap
Still trembles at the flower-tap,
The fairest bud I pu't up,
⁠An' kiss't for sake o' thee;
An' when by stream, or fountain,
In glen, or on the mountain,
The lingering moments counting,
⁠I pause an' think o' thee.

When the sun's red-rays are streamin',
Warm on the meadow beamin',
Or o'er the loch wild gleamin',
⁠My heart is fu' o' thee.
An' tardy-footed gloamin',
Out o'er the hills slow comin',
Still finds me lanely roamin',
⁠And thinkin' still o' thee.

When soughs the distant billow,
An' night blasts shake the willow,
Stretch'd on my lanely pillow
⁠My dreams are a' o' thee.
Then think when frien's caress thee,
O think when cares distress thee,
O think when pleasures bless thee,
⁠O' him that thinks o' thee!

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