The Lass O' Ballochmyle |
Robert Burns, 1786
'Twas even-the dewy fields were green, On every blade the pearls hang; The zephyr wanton'd round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang: In ev'ry glen the mavis sang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while, Except where greenwood echoes rang, Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.
2. With careless step I onward stray'd, | 3. Fair is the morn in flowery May, And sweet is night in autumn mild; When roving thro' the garden gay, Or wand'ring in the lonely wild: But woman, nature's darling child! There all her charms she does compile; Even there her other works are foil'd By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle.
4. O, had she been a country maid, |
5. Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep, Where frame and honours lofty shine; And thirst of gold might tempt the deep, Or downward seek the Indian mine: Give me the cot below the pine, To tend the flocks or till the soil; And ev'ry day have joys divine With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle. |