BONNIE LADY ANN.
1
There's kames o'honey 'tween my luve's lips,
An' gold amang her hair,
Her breasts are lapt in a holie veil;
Nae mortal een look there.
What lips dare kiss, or what hand dare touch,
Or what arm o' luve dare span
The honey lips, the creamy palm,
Or the waist o' Lady Ann!
2
She kisses the lips o' her bonnie red rose,
Wat wi' the blobs o' dew;
But nae gentle lip, nor semple lip,
Maun touch her Ladie mou.
But a broider'd belt, wi' a buckle o' gold,
Her jimpy waist maun span—
O she's an armfu' fit for heaven,
My bonnie Ladie Ann.
3
Her bower casement is latticed wi' flowers,
Tied up wi' silver thread,
An' comely sits she in the midst,
Men's longing een to feed.
She waves the ringlets frae her cheek,
Wi' her milky, milky han',
An' her cheeks seem touch'd wi' the finger o' God,
My bonnie Ladie Ann!
4
The morning cloud is tassel'd wi' gold,
Like my luve's broider'd cap,
An' on the mantle which my luve wears
Is monie a golden drap.
Her bonnie eebrow's a holie arch
Cast by no earthlie han';
An' the breath o' Heaven's atween the lips
O' my bonnie Ladie Ann!
5
I am her father's gardener lad,
An' poor, poor is my fa';
My auld mither gets my sair-won fee,
Wi' fatherless bairnies twa.
My een are bauld, they dwall on a place
Where I darena mint my han',
But I water, and tend, and kiss the flowers
O' my bonnie Lady Ann.
