The Black-bird/The Lass of Torrance-Glen
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
- ↑ 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.