Lassie wi the lintwhite locks, bonnie
lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi me tent the flocks, and wilt thou
be my dearie, o.
Now nature cleeds the flowery lea and a
is young and sweet like thee,
O wilt thou share its joys wi
me and say thoult be
my dearie, o.
The primrose bank, the wimpling burn, the cuckoo on the milkwhite thorn,
The wanton lambs at rosy morn shall glad thy heart, my dearie, o.
And when the welcome simmer shower has cheerd
ilk drooping little flower,
Well to the breathing woodbine-bower at sultry noon, my dearie, o.
As Cynthia lights wi
silver ray the weary shearers
Thro' yellow waving fields well
stray and talk o love, my dearie, o.
And should the howling wintry blast disturb my lassies
Ill fauld thee to my faithfu
breast and comfort thee, my dearie, o.