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8
When roving through the garden gay,
Go wandering in the lonely wild;
But woman, nature's darling child,
There all her charms she does compile,
Even there her other works are foil'd,
By the lass o' Ballochmyle.
Go wandering in the lonely wild;
But woman, nature's darling child,
There all her charms she does compile,
Even there her other works are foil'd,
By the lass o' Ballochmyle.
O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though shelter'd in the lowest shed,
That ever rose on Scotland's plain.
Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy with rapture I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain;
The bonny lass o' Ballochmyle.
And I the happy country swain,
Though shelter'd in the lowest shed,
That ever rose on Scotland's plain.
Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy with rapture I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain;
The bonny lass o' Ballochmyle.
Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine,
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward sink the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine,
With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle
Where fame and honours lofty shine,
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward sink the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine,
With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle
FINIS.
