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i But when their best they ha'e put ont
My Jeanie dings them a‘;
In hamely weeds she far exceeds
The fairest of the town,
fiaith sage and gay confess it sae,
Tho’ drest in rustic gown.
The gamesome lamb, that sucks its dam
Mair harmless canna be;
she has nae fau’t (if sic we ca’t,)
Except her love for me.
The sparkling dew, of clearest hue,
i | Is like her shining een;
In shape an’ air, wha can compare
Wi’ my sweet lovely Jean.
i) blaw, ye westland win’s, blaw saft
| Amang the leafy trees,
iVi’ gentle breath, frae muir and dale,
ft Bring hame the laden bees,
i:\nd bring the lassie back to me,
1 That’s aye sae neat and clean ;
le blink o* her wad banish care,
il Sae charming is my Jean.
iVhat sighs and vows amang the ’nowes,
i| Has past atween us twa !
liow fain to meet, how wae to part,
[ That day she gaed awa!
c

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