Upon the flow'ry banks o' Tyne,
The rose and myrtle may entwine;
But were there every sweet divine,
They wadna a' be like my Delia.
Clear beams the eye o' Delia,
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia;
Nor flowers that blaw, nor falling snaw,
Were e'er sae pure as lovely Delia.
Gently blaw, thou whistlin' wind,
Along the bonny banks o' Tyne,
Where nature every grace combin'd
When she first form'd my life, my Delia!
Clear beams the eye o' Delia,
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia;
Nor flower that blaws, nor winter snaws,
Were e'er sae pure as lovely Delia.
Tho' a' the wee birds round me sing,
To welcome back the blithefu' spring;
Yet a' the music they can bring
Is nae sae sweet's the voice o' Delia.
Clear beams the eye o' Delia,
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia;
Nor flower that blaws, nor drifting snaws,
Were e'er sae pure as my lov'd Delia.
The bonny little playfu' lamb,
That frisks along the verdant plain,
Is nae mair free fra guilty stain,
Than is my life, my love, my Delia.
Clear beams the eye o' Delia,
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia;
Nor flowers that blaw, nor whitest snaw,
Were e'er sae pure as my sweet Delia.
The priests they tell us, all above,
With angels, do delight in love;
Then surely angels must approve
Their image in my lovely Delia.
Clear beams the eye o' Delia,
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia;
Nor flower that blaws, nor new-born snaws,
Were e'er sae pure as lovely Delia.
Truth and kindness ever reigns,
In a' her heart, through a' her veins;
Yet nane shall ken the pleasing pains
I hae endur'd for my sweet Delia.
Heaven's in the smile o' Delia,
Blight's the beam in her dark eye;
Nor flower that blaws, nor virgin snaws,
Were e'er sae pure as my lov'd Delia.
PANDON DEAN.
Tune—"Banks o' Doon."
Farewell, ye fragrant, shady groves!
Farewell, thou charming sylvan scene,
Where partial mem'ry hapless roves—
I bid adieu to Pandon Dean.