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(99) Page 95 - Lass of Ballochmyle

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(99) Page 95 - Lass of Ballochmyle
95
The Lass of ' Ballochmyle.
TUNE—The Blacsbird.
*Twas even — the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hung ;
The zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets along ;
In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
All nature list'ning seem'd the while,
Except where green- wood echoes rang
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.
With careless step I onward stray T d,
My heart rejoic'd in nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy ;
Her look was like the morning's eye,
Her air like nature's vernal smile ;
The lily's hue and rose's dye
Bespoke the lass o' Ballochmyle.
Fair is the morn in fiowYy May,
An* sweet is night in Autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild :

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