Bonnie Jean.
[Tune, "Ettrick banks."]
See spring her graces wild disclose,
Birds sweetly chant on ilka spray;
'Mang broomy knowes the shepherd goes,
While sportive lambkins round him play.
Enraptured now I take my way,
While joy enlivens a' the scene;
Down by yon shaded stream I stray,
To meet an' hail my bonnie Jean.
Ye Kellburn groves, by spring attired,
Where zephyrs sport amang the flowers,
Your fairy scenes I've aft admired,
While jocund pass'd the sunny hours.
But doubly happy in your bowers,
When fragrance scents the devry e'en,
I wander whare your streamlet pours,
To meet an' hail my bonnie Jean.
Let grandeur rear her lofty dome,
Let mad ambition kingdoms spoil,
Through foreign lands let avarice roam,
An' for her prize unceasing toil;
Give me fair nature's vernal smile,
The shelter'd grove, and daisied green,
I'll happy tread my native soil,
To meet an' hail my bonnie Jean.
Her blue rollin’ e’e.
[Hogg.—Tune, "Banks of the Devon."]
My lassie is lovely as May-day, adorning
Wi' gowans an' primroses ilka green lee;
Tho' sweet is the violet, new blown i' the morning,
As tender an' sweet is her blue rollin' e'e.
I say, what is whiter than snaw on the mountain?
Or what wi' the red rose in beauty can vie?
Yes, whiter her bosom than snaw on the mountain,
And bonnie her face as the red rose can be.
See yon lowly cottage that stands by the wild wood,
Hedged round wi' sweet briar and green willow tree;
'Twas yonder I spent the first days of my childhood,
And first felt the power o' a love-rollin' e'e.
Tho' soon frae my hame and my lassie I wander'd,
Tho' lang I've been tossing on fortune's rough sea,
Aye dear was the valley where Ettrick meander'd;
Aye dear was the blink o' her blue rollin' e'e.
O for the evening, and O for the hour,
When down by yon greenwood she promised to be;
When quick as the summer dew dries on the flower,
A' earthly affections and wishes wad flee.
Let Art and let Nature display their proud treasure;
Let Paradise boast o' what ance it could gi'e;
As high is my bliss, and as sweet is my pleasure,
In the heart-melting blink o' my lassie's blue e'e.
The banks o’ Glaizart.
[Tune, "Locherroch side."—This and the following song first appeared in "The Pocket Encyclopedia of Song," Glasgow, 1816.—Glaizart is a rivulet in Campsie parish, Stirlingshire.]
Now flowery summer comes again,
And decks my native, bonnie plain,
While feather'd warblers swell the strain,
Aroun' the banks o' Glaizart.
Our woody, wild, romantic glens,
Our flowery groves, and fairy dens,
Form heart-enliv'ning, charming scenes,
Aroun' the banks o' Glaizart.
In childhood's days, sweet dawn o' life,
Unknown to sorrow, care and strife,
Aft ha'e I roved 'mid pleasures rife,
Upon thy banks, sweet Glaizart.
There too, fair Jeanie, maid o' glee,
In youthfu' days engaged my e'e,
And first her mou' I blythe did prie,
Upon thy banks, sweet Glaizart.
O charming are the towering Fells,
Whare rural pleasure kindly dwells;
And lovely are the blooming belles,
That grace thy banks, sweet Glaizart.
Here Nature's han', in days o' yore,
That after-swains might her adore,
Bequeath'd the peerless gifts, in store,
That grace thy banks, sweet Glaizart.
