Lassie wi’ the lintwhite locks
Lassie wi’ the lintwhite locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks,
An 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 thou’lt 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 chear’d ilk drooping little flower,
We’ll to the breathing woodbine bower
At sultry noon, my Dearie, O.
When Cynthia lights, wi’ silver ray,
The weary shearer’s hameward way,
Thro’ yellow waving fields we’ll stray,
And talk o’ love, my Dearie, O.
And should the howling wintry blast
Disturb my lassie’s midnight rest,
I’ll fauld thee to my faithfu’ breast,
And comfort thee, my Dearie O.
Lassie wi’ the lintwhite locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks,
An wilt thou be my Dearie O.
