Роберт Аллан (Robert Allan)

The Bonnie Lass o’ Woodhouselee

THE SUN blinks sweetly on yon shaw,
  But sweeter far on Woodhouselee,
And dear I like his setting beam
  For sake o’ ane sae dear to me.
It was na simmer’s fairy scenes,
  In a’ their charming luxury,
But Beauty’s sel’ that won my heart,
  The bonnie lass o’ Woodhouselee.

Sae winnin’ was her witchin’ smile,
  Sae piercin’ was her coal-black e’e,
Sae sairly wounded was my heart,
  That had na wist sic ills to dree;
In vain I strave in beauty’s chains,
  I cou’d na keep my fancy free,
She gat my heart sae in her thrall,
  The bonnie lass o’ Woodhouselee.

The bonnie knowes, sae yellow a’,
  Where aft is heard the hum of bee,
The meadow green, and breezy hill,
  Where lambkins sport sae merrilie,
May charm the weary, wand’rin’ swain,
  When e’enin’ sun dips in the sea,
But a’ my heart, baith e’en and morn,
  Is wi’ the lass o’ Woodhouselee.

The flowers that kiss the wimplin’ burn,
  And dew-clad gowans on the lea,
The water-lily on the lake,
  Are but sweet emblems a’ of thee;
And while in simmer smiles they bloom,
  Sae lovely, and sae fair to see,
I ’ll woo their sweets, e’en for thy sake,
  The bonnie lass o’ Woodhouselee.

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