Robert Burns

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‘TWAS na her bonnie blue ee was my ruin;
Fair tho’ she be, that was ne’er my undoing;
‘Twas the dear smile when naebody did mind us,
‘Twas the bewitching sweet, stown glance o’ kindness.

Sair do I fear that to hope is denied me,
Sair do I fear that despair maun abide me;
But tho’ fell fortune should fate us to sever,
Queen shall she be in my bosom for ever.

Chloris, I’m thine wi’ a passion sincerest,
And thou hast plighted me love o’ the dearest!
And thou’rt the angel that never can alter,
Sooner the sun in his motion would falter.