The Book of Scottish Song/Sweet Susan

Sweet Susan.

[Tune, "Leader-haughs."]

The morn was fair, saft was the air,
All nature's sweets were springing;
The buds did bow with silver dew,
Ten thousand birds were singing:
When on the bent, with blythe content,
Young Jamie sang his marrow,
Nae bonnier lass e'er trod the grass
On Leader-haughs and Yarrow.

How sweet her face, where ev'ry grace
In heavenly beauty 's planted:
Her smiling e'en, and comely mein,
That nae perfection wanted.
I'll never fret, nor ban my fate,
But bless my bonnie marrow;
If her dear smile my doubts beguile,
My mind shall ken nae sorrow.

Yet though she's fair, and has full share
Of ev'ry charm enchanting,
Each good turns ill, and soon will kill
Poor me, if love be wanting.
O bonnie lass! have but the grace
To think ere ye gae furder,
Your joys maun flit, if ye commit
The crying sin of murder.

My wand'ring ghaist will ne'er get rest,
And day and night affright ye;
But if ye're kind, with joyful mind,
I'll study to delight ye.
Our years around with love thus crown'd,
From all things joy shall borrow;
Thus none shall be more blest than we
On Leader-haughs and Yarrow.

O sweetest Sue! 'tis only you
Can make life worth my wishes,
If equal love your mind can move
To grant this best of blisses.
Thou art my sun, and thy least frown
Would blast me in the blossom;
But if thou shine, and make me thine,
I'll flourish in thy bosom.

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