Tak your auld cloak about ye (2)/The Braes of Yarrow

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THE BRAES OF YARROW.

⟨Busk⟩ ye, busk ye, my bonnie bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow;
⟨Busk⟩ ye, busk ye, my bonnie bride,
And let us to the braes of Yarrow.
⟨There⟩ will we sport and gather dew,
Dancing while lay'rocks sing in the morning;
⟨There⟩ learn frae turtles to prove true,
O Bell, ne'er vex me with thy scorning.

To westlin breezes Flora yields,
And when the beams are kindly ⟨warming⟩,
Blytheness appears o'er all the fields,
And nature looks mair fair and ⟨charming⟩:
Learn frae the burns, that trace ⟨the⟩ mead,
Tho' on their banks the roses ⟨blossom⟩
Yet hastilie they flow to Tweed,
And pour their sweetness in his ⟨bosom⟩.

Haste ye, haste ye, my bonnie Bell,
Haste to my arms, and there I'll ⟨guard⟩ thee;
With free consent my fears repel,
I'll with my love and care reward ⟨thee⟩
Thus sang I saſtly to my fair,
Wha rais'd my hopes wi' kind ⟨relenting⟩:
O queen of smiles! I ask nae mair,
Since now my bonnie Bell's ⟨consenting⟩.