The Bonny Lassie's Plaidy Awa/The Lass of Ballochmyle

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see The Lass o' Ballochmyle.

THE LASS O' BALLOCHMYLE.

Twas even—the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls haug,
The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets alang.
In every glen the mavis sang,
All nature listening seem'd the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang,
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.

With careless steps I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoiced in nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely shade,
A maiden fair I chanced to spy:
Her look was like the morning's aye,
Her hair like nature's vernal smile,
Perfection whispered passing by,
Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle.

Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving through the garden gay,
Go wandering in the lonely wild;
But woman, nature's darling child,
There all her charms she does compile,
Even there her other works are foil'd,
By the lass o' Ballochmyle.

O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though shelter'd in the lowest shed,
That ever rose on Scotland's plain.
Through weary winter's wind and rain,
With joy with rapture I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain;
The bonny lass o' Ballochmyle.

Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine,
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward sink the Indian mine;
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine,
With the bonny lass o' Ballochmyle

 

FINIS.