THE FLOWER O’ DUMBLANE.
The sun had gane down oer the lofty Benlomund
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lanely l stray’d in a calm simmer gloamin
To muse on sweet Jessy the flow’r o' Dumblane.
How sweet is the brier wi’ its saft faulding blossom
And sweet is the birk wi’ its mantle o’ green;
Yet sweeter and fairer, an’ dear to this bosom
Is lovely young Jessy the flow’r of Dumblane.
She’s modest as ony, and blythe as she’s bonny,
For guileles simplicity marks her its ain;
An’ far be the villain divested o’ feeling,
Wha’d blight in its bloom the sweet flower Dumblane.
Sing on thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e’ening,
Thour’t dear to the echoes of Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning
Is charming young Jessy the flower o’ Dumblane.
How lost were my days till I met wi’ my Jessie
