This page has been validated.
24
But didna Jeanie s heart loup light,
And didna joy blink in her e'e,
As Robie tauld a tale of love,
At e'ening on the lily lee?
The sun was sinking the west,
The birds sang sweet in ilka grove;
His check to her's he fondly prest,
And whisper'd thus his tale of love:-
O Jeanie fair, I lo'e thee dear;
O canst thon think to fancy me?
Or wilt thou leave thy mither's cot,
And learn to tent the farms wi' me?
At barn or byre thou shalt na drudg
Or naething else to trouble thee;
Bit stray amang the leather bells.
And tent the waving corn wi' me.
Now what could artless Jeanie do
She had nae will to say him na:
At length she blush'd a sweet consent.
And love was a ye between them twa.
