THE BRAES OF YARROW.
The sun just glancing through the trees,
gives light and joy to ilka grove,
And pleasure in oach southern breeze,
awaken hope and slumbering love.
When Jeany sung with hearty glee,
to charm her winsome marrow,
My bonny laddie gang wi' me
we’ll o'er the braes o' Yarrow.
Young Sandy was the blythest swain,
that ever pip'd on droomy brae;
Nae lass could ken him free frae pain,
sae gracefu’, kind, sae fair and gay.
And Jeany sung with hearty glee,
to charm her winsome marrow.
My bonny laddie gang wi' me
we’ll o’er the braes to Yarrow.
He kiss’d and lov’d the charming maid,
her sparkling een had won his heart,
Nae lass the youth had e’er betray’d,
nae fear had she, she had nae art.
And still she sung with heartsome glee
to charm her winsome marrow
My bonny laddie gang wi’ me
we’ll o’er the braes to Yarrow.
