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And Mary was the bonniest lass,
just fit to be a bride
Her cheeks were rosy, red and white,
her een were bonny blue,
Her looks were like Auroia bright,
her lips like drooping dew.
As down the burn they took their way,
what tender tales they said!
His cheeks to hers he aft did lay,
and with her bosom play'd.
Till baith at last impatient grown
to be mair fully blest,
in yonder vale they lean’d them down,
love only saw the rest.
What pass'd, I guess, was harmless play
and naething sure unmeet,
For ganging hame I heard them say,
they lik’d a walk sae sweet
And that they aften should return,
such pleasures to renew,
Quoth Mary, Love, I like the burn,
and ay shall follow you.
CORN RIGS ARE BONNY.
My Patie is a lover gay,
