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',