Роберт Андерсон (Robert Anderson)

Andrew’s Younger Dowter

Where Irthin rows to Eden's streams,
Thro' meedows sweetly stealin,
Owrhung by crags, hawf hid by furs,
There stands a cwozey dwellin;
And there's a lass wi' witchin feace,
Her luik gi'es pain or pleasure,
A rwose--bud hid frae pryin een,
The lads deleyte and treasure;
For when I saw her aw her leane,
I mair than mortal thought her,
And stuid amaz'd, and silent gaz'd
On Andrew's youngest dowter.

Her luik a captive meade my heart,
How matchless seem'd ilk feature!
The sun, in aw his yearly course,
Sheynes on nae fairer creature;
I watch'd her thro' the daisied howmes,
And pray'd for her returnin;
Then track'd her foot--marks through the wood,
My smitten heart aw burnin;--
Luive led me on; but when, at last,
In fancy meyne I thowt her,
I saw her awn dear happy lad
Meet Andrew's youngest dowter.

Sing sweet, ye wild birds i' the glens,
Where'er young Lizzy wanders;
Ye streams of Irthin, please her ears
Aw day wi' soft meanders;
And thou, the lad ay neist her heart,
Caress this bonny blossom--
Oh, never may the thworn o' care
Gi'e pain to sec a bosom!
Had I been king o' this weyde warl,
And kingdoms cud ha'e bought her,
I'd freely parted wi' them aw,
For Andrew's youngest dowter! 

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