Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonnie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There wild-woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between; But day and night my fancy’s flight Is ever wi’ my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, I see her sweet and fair: I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, I hear her charm the air: There’s not a bonnie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There’s not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean. O blaw, ye westlin winds, blaw saft Among the leafy trees, Wi’ balmy gale, frae hill and dale Bring hame the laden bees; And bring the lassie back to me That’s aye sae neat and clean; Ae smile o’ her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean. What sighs and vows amang the knows Hae passed atween us twa! How fond to meet, how wae to part, That night she gaed awa! The powers aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen, That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean!
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