a joy blink in her e'e,
as robie tauld a tale o' love
ae e'ening on the lily lea?
the sun was sinking in the west,
the birds sang sweet in ilka grove;
his cheek to hers he fondly id,
and whisper'd thus his tale o' love:
“o jeanie fair, i lo'e thee dear;
o st thou think to fancy me,
or wilt thou leave thy mammie's cot,
and learn to tent the farms wi' me?
“at barn or byre thou shalt na drudge,
or hing else to trouble thee;
but stray amang the heather-bells,
ahe waving wi' me.”
now what could artless jeanie
Bonie Jean—A Ballad(3/4)