Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/470

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452
SCOTTISH SONGS.

The woodbine I will pou when the e'enin' star is near,
And the diamond-draps o' dew shall be her een sae clear;
The violet's for modesty, which weel she fa's to wear:
And a' to be a posie to my ain dear May.

I'll tie the posie round wi' the eilken band of luve,
And I'll place it in her breast, and I'll swear by a' above,
That to the latest breath o' life the band shall ne'er remove:
And this will be a posie to my ain dear May.




Young Phemie.

[James Macdonald.—Here first printed.]

Ae summer eve o' rosy joy, when a' was quiet an' still,
I wandered east alang the banks o' lanely Provan Mill;
The mavis sang his evening hymn upon the birken tree,
An' bade gude nicht to a' the flowers on Rosemount's bonnie lea.

The mellow sang, the shady hour, the lovely autumn sky,
Were a' forgot, whene'er I saw young Phemie passing by;
For Phemie's face is a' my sang, her smile is life to me,
And ne'er a sky sae pleased my heart as Phemie's kindly e'e.

O fauld her in your arms, ye winds, at balmy evening's close,
And breathe your sweetest dew-drops on my lovely blooming rose;
For a' the dream o' wealth to me, this warld's hope can gi'e,
Is hoarded in the gowden vase o' bonnie Phemie's e'e.




The Bonnie Scotch Lass.

[Evan M'Coll.—Tune, "Roderick Mhic Alpain Dubh."—Here first printed.]

Ye maidens of England, O who can surpass ye
In a' that is innocent, gracefu', or fair?
I ken but o' ane,—she's my ain loving lassie,
The bonnie Scotch lass wi' the bricht gowden hair.

What though, for your silkens, she gangs in her plaidie,
What though that her dad has nae tocher to spare,
Yet rich were her lover an' blest, should his bride be
The bonnie Scotch lass wi' the bricht gowden hair.

What though I've nae courage to tell her my wishes,
For fear she'll deny—still I winna despair,
Sae lang as to see me looks downward and blushes
The bonnie Scotch lass wi' the bricht gowden hair.

O when shall it be that, accepted an' lo'esome,
I'll tell to my lov'd one how much she's my care?
O, when as my ain shall I strain to my bosom
The bonnie Scotch lass wi' the bright gowden hair?