Poems By Robert Leighton: 2nd ed |
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JEAN. |
 | Poems |  |
320
JEAN.
The ither day, doon by the burn,
Near whar it, wanderin', tak's a turn,
I met, neat as a new-made preen,
A winsome lass-they ca' her Jean.
Near whar it, wanderin', tak's a turn,
I met, neat as a new-made preen,
A winsome lass-they ca' her Jean.
And since my heart first got the knell,
I've lo'ed her mair than words can tell:
A' ither joys I'd gi'e to ken
If Jeanie Lo'ed me back again.
I've lo'ed her mair than words can tell:
A' ither joys I'd gi'e to ken
If Jeanie Lo'ed me back again.
The burnies they may cease to row,
The gowans they may cease to grow,
The starns they a' may cease to sheene,
Ere I can cease to think o' Jean.
The gowans they may cease to grow,
The starns they a' may cease to sheene,
Ere I can cease to think o' Jean.
O that we were twa streamlets clear,
And side by side gin we'd keep near,
Until our tracks a turnie taen,
And made us twa row into ane!
And side by side gin we'd keep near,
Until our tracks a turnie taen,
And made us twa row into ane!
| Poems | |