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O, then ye hae seen my dear lassie,
The lassie I lo'e best of a'
But far frae the hame o' my lassie,
I'm monie a lang mile awa.
Her hair is the wing o' the blackbird,
Her eye is the eye o' the dove,
Her lips are the blush'ng rose-bud,
Her bosom's the palace of love.
Tho' green be thy banks O sweet Clutba!
Thy beauties ne'er charm me ava;
Forgive me, ye maids o' sweet Clutha!
My heart is wi' her that’s awa.
O love, thou'st a dear fleeting pleasure!
The sweetest we mortals here know;
But soon is thy heav'n, bright beaming,
O'ercast with the darkness of wo.
As the moon, on the oft-changing ocean,
Delights the lone mariner's eye,
Till red rush the storms of the desert,
And dark billows tumble on high.
BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY.
Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
