The Book of Scottish Song/Sweet's the dew

Sweet's the dew.

[The author of this and the following song was John Goldie, the original editor of the Paisley Advertiser. He was a native of Ayr, and for some time before he started the Paisley newspaper, which was the first ever published in that town, and was begun on the 9th Oct. 1824, he had teen engaged as editor of the Ayr Courier. Previous to this, too, in 1822, he had brought out by subscription a small volume of "Poems and Songs." He died suddenly, from the bursting of a blood-vessel, on the 27th Feb. 1826, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. At the time of his death, he was engaged in compiling for Mr. M'Phun of Glasgow a collection of songs, which was published in two small volumes, with the title of "The Spirit of British Song."]

Sweet's the dew-deck'd rose in June,
⁠And lily lair to see, Annie,
But there's ne'er a flower that blooms,
⁠Is half so fair as thee, Annie.
Beside those blooming cheeks o' thine,
The opening rose its beauties tine,
Thy lips the rubies far outshine;
⁠Love sparkles in thy e'e, Annie.

The snaw that decks yon mountain top,
⁠Nae purer is than thee, Annie;
The haughty mien, and pridefu' look,
⁠Are banish'd far frae thee, Annie;
And in thy sweet angelic face,
Triumphant beams each modest grace.
"And ne'er did Grecian chissel trace,"
⁠A form sae bright as thine, Annie.

Wha could behold thy rosy cheek,
⁠And no feel love's sharp pang, Annie,
What heart could view thy smiling looks,
⁠And plot to do thee wrang, Annie.
Thy name in ilk sang I'll weave,
My heart, my soul wi' thee I'll leave,
And never, till I cease to breathe,
⁠I'll cease to think on thee, Annie.

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