The Book of Scottish Song/Bet of Aberdeen

Bet of Aberdeen.

[Written by Alexander Rodger. Music by M. Wilson.]

How brightly beams the bonnie moon
⁠Frae out the azure sky,
While ilka little star aboon
⁠Seems sparkling bright wi' joy.
How calm the eve! how blest the hour!
⁠How soft the sylvan scene!
How fit to meet thee, lovely flower!
⁠Sweet Bet of Aberdeen.

Now let us wander through the broom,
⁠And o'er the flowery lea;
While simmer wafts her rich perfume
⁠Frae yonder hawthorn tree,
There on yon mossy bank we'll rest,
⁠Where we've sae aften been,
Clasp'd to each other's throbbing breast,
⁠Sweet Bet of Aberdeen.

How sweet to view that face so meek,
⁠That dark expressive eye;
To kiss that lovely blushing cheek,
⁠Those lips of coral dye;
But oh! to hear thy seraph strains,
⁠Thy maiden sighs between,
Makes rapture thrill through all my vein
⁠Sweet Bet of Aberdeen.

Oh! what to us is wealth or rank?
⁠Or what is pomp or power?
More dear this velvet mossy bank,
⁠This blest ecstatic hour:
I'd covet not the monarch's throne,
⁠Nor diamond-studded queen,
While blest wi' thee, and thee alone,
⁠Sweet Bet of Aberdeen.

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