The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd Centenary Edition. With a Memoir of the Author, by the Rev. Thomas Thomson ... Poems and Life. With Many Illustrative Engravings [by James Hogg] |
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 | The Works of The Ettrick Shepherd |  |
Blythe an' Cheerie.
On Ettrick clear there grows a brier,
An' mony a bonnie blooming shaw;
But Peggie's grown the fairest flower
The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose;
Her e'e the violet set wi' dew;
The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
An' mony a bonnie blooming shaw;
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The braes o' Ettrick ever saw.
Her cheek is like the woodland rose;
Her e'e the violet set wi' dew;
The lily's fair without compare,
Yet in her bosom tines its hue.
Had I as muckle gowd an' gear
As I could lift unto my knee,
Nae ither lass but Peggie dear
Should ever be a bride to me.
Oh she's blithe, an' oh she's cheerie,
Oh she's bonnie, frank, an' free!
The sternies bright, nae dewy night,
Could ever beam like Peggie's e'e.
As I could lift unto my knee,
Nae ither lass but Peggie dear
Should ever be a bride to me.
Oh she's blithe, an' oh she's cheerie,
Oh she's bonnie, frank, an' free!
The sternies bright, nae dewy night,
Could ever beam like Peggie's e'e.
Had I her hame at my wee house,
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
Oh sae blithe, an' oh sae cheerie,
Oh sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggie's dearer far to me.
That stands aneath yon mountain high,
To help me wi' the kye an' ewes,
An' in my arms at e'ening lie;
Oh sae blithe, an' oh sae cheerie,
Oh sae happy we wad be!
The lammie to the ewe is dear,
But Peggie's dearer far to me.
But I may sigh and stand abeigh,
An' greet till I tine baith my een;
Though Peggie's smile my heart beguiles,
She disna mind my love a preen.
Oh I'm sad, an' oh I'm sorry!
Sad an' sorry may I be;
I may be sick an' very sick,
But I'll be desperate sweer to dee.
An' greet till I tine baith my een;
Though Peggie's smile my heart beguiles,
She disna mind my love a preen.
Oh I'm sad, an' oh I'm sorry!
Sad an' sorry may I be;
I may be sick an' very sick,
But I'll be desperate sweer to dee.
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