FLOWER O' DUNBLANE
The sun has gane down o'er the lofty Ben-lomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene,
While lanely I stray'd in a calm simmer gloamin',
To muse on sweet Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
How sweet is the brier wi' its saft faulding blossom,
And sweet is the birk wi' it's mantle o' green,
Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessie, the flow'r o' Dunblane.
She's modest as ony and blithe as she's bonny,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain,
And far be the villian, divested o' feeling,
Wha'd blight in its bloom, the sweet flower o' Dunblane.
Sing on thou sweet mavis, thy hymn o' the e'ening
Thou'rt dear to the echoes o' Calderwood glen,
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessie the flow'r o Dunblane.
How lost were my days till I met wi' my Jessie,
The sports of the city seem'd foolish and vain;
