THE SCOTCH BLUE BELL.
The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell,
The dear blue-bell for me!
Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell
For a' the flowers I see.
I lo'e thee weel, thou Scotch blue-bell,
I hail thee, floweret fair;
Whether thou bloom'st in lanely dell,
Or wavest mid mountain air—
Blithe springing frae our bare, rough rocks,
Or fountain's flowery brink:
Where, fleet as wind, in thirsty flocks,
The deer descend to drink.
The Scotch blue-bell,&c.
Sweet flower! thou deck'st the sacred nook
Beside love's trystin' tree;
I see thee bend to kiss the brook,
That kindly kisseth thee.
'Mang my love's locks ye 're aften seen,
Blithe noddin' o'er her brow,
Meet marrows to her lovely een
O' deep endearin' blue!
The Scotch blue-bell, &c.
When e'enin's gowden curtains hing
O'er moor and mountain gray,
Methinks I hear the blue-bells ring
A dirge to deein' day;
But when the licht o' mornin' wakes
The young dew-drooket flowers,
I hear amid their merry peals,
The mirth o' bridal hours!
The Scotch blue-bell, &c.
How oft wi' rapture hae I stray'd,
The mountain's heather crest,
There aft wi' thee hae I array'd
My Mary's maiden breast;
Oft tremblin' mark'd amang thy bells,
Her bosom fa' and rise,
Like snawy cloud that sinks and swells,
'Neath summer's deep blue skies.
The Scotch blue-bell, &c.
Oh! weel ye guess when morning daws,
I seek the blue-bell grot;
An' weel ye guess, when e'enin' fa's
Sae sweet, I leave it not;
An' when upon my tremblin' breast,
Reclines my maiden fair,
Thou know'st full well that I am blest,
And free frae ilka care.
The Scotch blue-bell, the Scotch blue-bell,
The dear blue-bell for me!
Oh! I wadna gie the Scotch blue-bell,
For a' the flowers I see.