The Sentimental Songster/The Flower o' Dunblane
THE FLOWER O’ DUMBLAIN.
he sun had gane down o’er the lofty Benlomond,
An’ left the red clouds to preside o’er the scene,
While lanely I stray’d in a calm simmer gloamin,
To muse on sweet Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.
How sweet is the brier, wi’ its saft folding blossom,
An’ sweet is the birk, wi’ its mantle o’ green;
Yet sweeter, an’ fairer, an’ dear to this bosom,
Is lovely young Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.
Is lovely, &c.
She's modest as ony, an' blyth as she’s bonny,
For guileless simplicity marks her its ain;
An’ far be the villain, divested o’ feeling,
Wad blight in its bloom the sweet flower o’ Dumblain.
Sing on, thou sweet mavis, thy hymn to the e’ening,
Thou’rt dear to the echoes o’ Calderwood glen;
Sae dear to this bosom, sae artless and winning,
Is charming young Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.
Is charming, &c.
How lost were my days, till I met wi’ my Jessy,
The sports o' the city seem’d foolish an’ vain;
I na’er saw a nymph I would ca’ my dear lassie,
Till charm’d wi’ young Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain;
Though mine were the station o’ loftiest grandeur,
Amidst its profusion I’d languish in pain,
An’ reckon as naething the height o’ its splendour,
If wanting sweet Jessy, the flower o’ Dumblain.
If wanting, &c.