SONG.

Tune.—"Gin a body meet a body."

Bonnie lassie, fairest lassie,

Dear art thou to me;

Let me think, my bonnie lassie,

I am lov'd by thee!

I speak na of thy ringlets bright,

Nor of thy witching 'ee;

But this I'll tell thy bonnie sel',

That dear art thou to me!

O! beauty it is rare, lassie,

And beauty it is thine,

Yet my love is no for beauty's sake,

'Tis just I wish thee mine!

Thy smile might match an angel's smile,

Gif such, save thee, there be;

Yet though thy charms my bosom warms,

I'll tell na them to thee!

Thy sunny face has nature's grace,

Thy form is winsome fair;

But when for long thou'st heard that sang,

O! wherefore hear it mair?

Thy voice, soft as the hymn of morn,

Or evening's melodie,

May still excel, as a' can tell,

Then wherefore hear't frae me?

Bonnie lassie, fairest lassie,

Think na't strange o' me,

That when thy beauty's praised by a',

Thou get'st nae praise frae me?

For wha wad praise what none can praise?

Yet, lassie, list to me;

Gie me thy love, and in return

I'll sing thy charms to thee!

Metropolitan.