Poem by Robert Burns

* * *

I met a lass, a bonnie lass,
  	Coming o’er the braes o’ Couper,
Bare her leg and bright her een,
  	And handsome ilka bit about her.
Weel I wat she was a quean
  	Wad made a body’s mouth to water;
Our Mess John, wi’ his lyart pow,
  	His haly lips wad lickit at her.

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
3. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
4. Fairest Maid on Devon Banks
5. The Bonnie Wee Thing

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