The Black-bird/The Lass of Torrance-Glen

by Anonymous

For other versions of this work, see The Lass of Torrance-Glen.

THE
LASS OF TORRANCE-GLEN^[1]
(Tune—Blythe was she, &c.)

Ae sweetly-smiling simmer morn,
 When nature bloom’d in a’ her pride,
I wander’d thoughtless thro’ the groves
 That deck the braes on Calder-side.

Blythe, blythe, and merry was I,
 Blyther than the maist of men;
Now, alas! I’ve lost my heart
 Amang the groves of Torrance-glen.

To watch the feather'd warblers' song,
 I lean'd me down beneath a thorn,
When soon a bonny lass I spy’d,
 Was sweeter than the vernal morn.
   Blythe, blythe, &c.

Her een was like the glomin’ star,
 And glitterin’ was her gowden hair;
There’s no a lass round Britain’s Isle
 With my sweet Mary can compare.
   Blythe, blythe, &c.

Her skin was white as virgin snaw,
 Her cheeks excell’d the roses red;
But O! her mouth’s beyond compare,
 Sae muckle sweetness there lies hid.
  Blythe, blythe, &c.

Let bards describe bright Juno’s charms,
 Or Venus rising from the sea;
But my delight’s to sing the praise
 Of Mary with the sparkling e’e.

Blythe, blythe and merry was I,
 Blyther than the maist of men;
Now, alas! I've lost my heart
 Amang the groves of Torrance-glen.

 

———o———

 

1. The Glen of Torrance is a beautiful romantic valley, on the banks of Calder, on the Estate of the late Alex Stuart, Esq. of Torrance, Parish of East Kilbride, about eight miles from Glasgow.