O were my love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
And I a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing;
How I wad worn when it was torn,
By autumn wild and winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
Oh gin my love was yon red rose
That grows upon the castle wa',
And I mysel' a drap o' dew,
Into her bonnie breast to fa';
O there beyond expression blest,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night,
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Til fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.
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