The Book of Scottish Song/The Lass o' Preston Mill

The Lass o’ Preston Mill.

[Air, "Good night and joy be wi' ye a'."]

The lark had left the evening cloud,
The dew fell saft, the wind was lown,
Its gentle breath amang the flowers,
Scarce stirr'd the thistle's tap o' dewn,
The dappled swallow had left the pool,
The stars were blinking o'er the hill,
As I met amang the hawthorns green,
The lovely lass o' Preston mill.

Her naked feet amang the grass
Seem'd like the dew-gemm'd lilies fair;
Her brow shone comely 'mang her locks,
Black curling o'er her shoulders bare;
Her cheeks were rich in bloomy youth,
Her lips were like a honey-well,
And heaven seem'd looking through her een—
The lovely lass o' Preston mill.

Quo' I, sweet lass, will ye gang wi' me,
Where moor cocks craw, and plovers cry;
Sax hills are wooly wi' my sheep—
Sax vales are lowing wi' my kye.
I have a lad wha's far awa',
That weel could win a woman's will;
She hung her head like a dew-beut rose—
The lovely lass o' Preston mill.

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