Lovely Jean (1)/Lovely Jean

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LOVELY JEAN.

Of a’ the airts the win’ can blaw,
I dearly like the west;
For there the bonny lassie lives,
The lass that I lo’e best;
Tho’ wild woods grow, an rivers row,
Wi’ mony a hill between,
Baith day an’ night my fancy’s fligh
Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flower,
Sae lovely, sweet, an’ fair;
I hear her voice in ilka bird,
Wi' music charm the air;
There’s not a bonny flow’r that springs,
By fountain shaw or green,
Nor yet a bonny bird that sings,
But minds me o’ my Jean.

Upon the banks of flowing Clyde,
The lasses busk them braw;
But when their best they hae put on,
My Jeanie dings them a;
In hamely weeds she far exceeds,
The fairest of the town
Baith grave and gay confess it sae,
Tho’ dress'd in russet gown.

The gamesome lamb that sucks the dam,
Mair harmless canna be;
She has nae faut (if sick we ca't)
Except her love to me;
The sparkling dew,, of clearest hue,
Is like her shining een;
In shape an' air wha can compare,
Wi' my sweet lovely Jean.

O blaw, ye westlin win's, blaw soft,
Amang the leafy trees;
Wi' gentle breath, frae muir an' dale;
Bring hame the laden bees;
An' bring the lassie back to me,
That's ay sae neat an' clean!
Ae blink o' her wad banish care,
Sae charming is my Jean!

What sighs and vows amang the knowes,
Hae past atween us twa;
How fain to meet and wae to part,
That day she gade awa!
The pow’rs aboon can only ken,
To whom the heart is seen ;
That nane can be sae dear to me,
As my sweet lovely Jean.