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Sweet the joy that lovers find,
great the treaſure, ſweet the pleaſure.
Where the heart is always kind.
Down the burn, &c.
THE BRAES of YARROW.
THE fun juſt glancing thro' the trees,
gave light and joy to ilka grove,
And pleaſure in each ſouthern breeze,
awaken hope and ſlumbering love;
Chor. When Jenny 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 broomy brae;
Nae laſs cou'd ken him free from pain,
ſae gracefu' kind, ſae fair and gay.
Chor. And Jeany ſung, &c.
He kiſs'd and lo’ed the bonny maid,
her ſparkling een had won his heart,
Nae laſs the youth had e’er betray'd,
nae fear had ſhe, the lad nae art.
Chor. And ſtill ſhe ſung with hearty glee,
to charm her handſome marrow.
My bonny laddie gang, wi' me,
well o'er the braes to Yarrow.
GLASGOW
Printed by J. & M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1802
