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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.
THE BUSH ABOON TRAQUAIR.
Hear me ye nymphs and every swain,
I'll tell how Peggy grieves me,
