Ca' the yowes, &c.
Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear,
Thou'rt to Love and Heav'n sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near;
My bonie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die--but canna part,
My bonie Dearie.
Ca' the yowes, &c.
[Footnote 1: An old ruin in a sweet situation at the
confluence of the Clouden and the Nith.--R. B.]
She Says She Loes Me Best Of A'
Tune--"Oonagh's Waterfall."
Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er-arching
Twa laughing e'en o' lovely blue;
Her smiling, sae wyling.
Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto these rosy lips to grow!
Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
When first that bonie face I saw;
And aye my Chloris' dearest charm--
She says, she lo'es me best of a'.
Like harmony her motion,
Her pretty ankle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,
Wad make a saint forget the sky:
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her faultless form and gracefu' air;
Ilk feature--auld Nature
Declar'd that she could do nae mair:
Hers are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering Beauty's sovereign law;
And still my Chloris' dearest charm--
She says, she lo'es me best of a'.
Pages:
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569