Shine dimly through soft pity’s tear;
These are the charms that mak’ thee dear
To me, my black-e’ed lassie O!”
When David had finished the song, Bell said with a broad grin: “I never could sing but the ae sang o’ the Bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Ben Lomond, an’ it’s raither waefu’ for the noo; but there’s a verse I pickit up frae Gordie—he’s gaun to be a grand singer, Gordie; I’ll miss him, may be—but at ony rate the sang’s been at my tongue-end for a while, an’ d’ye ken, David, I think it’s you an’ me tae a nothing?
‘I lo’ed ne’er a laddie but ane!’
that’s me, ony way:
‘He lo’ed ne’er a lassie but me,
He’s willing to mak’ me his ain,
And his ain I am willing to be;’
that’s me tae.”