The Book of Scottish Song/My love she's but a lassie
My love she's but a lassie.
[James Hogg.—For the original song of "My love she's but a lassie yet," see page 512.]
My love she's but a lassie yet,
A lightsome lovely lassie yet;
It scarce wad do
To sit an' woo
Down by the stream sae glassy yet,
But there's a braw time coming yet,
When we may pang a-roaming yet;
An' hint wi' glee
O' joys to be,
When fa's the modest gloaming yet.
She's neither proud nor saucy yet,
She's neither plump nor gaucy yet;
But just a jinking,
Bonnie blinking,
Hilty-skilty lassie yet.
But O, her artless smile's mair sweet
Than hinny or than marmalete;
An' right or wrang,
Ere it be lang,
I'll bring her to a parley yet.
I'm jealous o' what blesses her,
The very breeze that kisses her,
The flowery beds
On which she treads,
Though wae for ane that misses her.
Then O to meet my lassie yet,
Up in yon glen sae grassy yet;
For all I see
Are nought to me,
Save her that's but a lassie yet!