The Book of Scottish Song/The widow's ae bit Lassie

The widow’s ae bit Lassie.

[Thomas C. Latto.—Tune, "My only jo and dearie, O."—Here first printed.]

O guess ye wha I met yestreen,
On Kenly banks sae grassy, O,
Wha cam' to bless my waitin' een?
The widow's ae bit lassie, O.
She brak my gloamin-dream sae sweet,
Just whar the wimplin' burnies meet:
The smother'd laugh,—I flew to greet
The widow's ae bit lassie, O.

They glintit slee,—the moon and she,
The widow's ae bit lassie, O,
On tremblin' stream an' tremblin' me,
She is a dear wee lassie, O.
How rapture's pulse was beating fast,
As Mary to my heart I clasp't,
O bliss divine,—owre sweet to last,
I've kiss'd the dear bit lassie, O.

She nestled close, like croodlin' doo,
The widow's ae bit lassie, O,
My cheek to hers, syne mou' to mou',
The widow's ae bit lassie, O;
Unto my breast again, again,
I prest her guileless heart sae fain,
Sae blest we're baith, now she's my ain,
The widow's ae bit lassie, O.

Ye powers aboon, wha made her mine,
The widow's ae bit lassie, O,
My heart wad break gin I should tyne
The widow's ae bit lassie, O;
Our hearth shall glad the angels' sight,
The lamp o' love shall lowe sae bright
On me and her, my soul's delight,
The widow's ae bit lassie, O.

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