The Book of Scottish Song/O, my love's bonnie

O, my love's bonnie.

O! my love's bonnie, bonnie, bonnie,
O! my love's bonnie and dear to me;
The smile o' her lace, and her e'e's witchin' grace,
Are mair than the wealth o' this warld can gi'e.
Her voice is as sweet as the blackbird at gloamin',
When echo repeats her soft notes to the ear,
And lovely and fresh as the wild roses blooming,
That dip in the stream o' the Carron sae clear.
O! my love's bonnie, &c.

But poortith's a foe to the peace o' this bosom,
That glows sae devoutly, dear lassie, for thee;
Alas! that e'er poortith should blight love's young blossom,
When riches nae lasting contentment can gi'e.
For! my love's bonnie, &c.

Yet hope's cheerfu' sun shall aboon my head hover,
'An' guide a lone wanderer when far, far frae thee;
For ne'er till it sets will I prove a false lover,
Or think o' anither, dear lassie, but thee.
For O! thou art bonnie, &c.

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