I Gaed A Waefu Gate Yestreen
i gaed a waefu' gate yestreen
i gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
a gate, i fear, i'll dearly rue;
i gat my death frae twa sweet een,
twa lovely een o'bonie blue.
'twas not her golden ringlets bright,
her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
her heaving bosom, lily-white—
it was her een sae bonie blue.
she talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd;
she charm'd my soul i wist na how;
and aye the stound, the deadly wound,
cam frae her een so bonie blue.
but “spare to speak, and spare to speed;”
she'll aiblins listen to my vow:
should she refuse, i'll lay my dead
to her twa een sae bonie blue.