Whae'er

ye

be that woman love,

To this be never blind,

Nae ferlie 'tis tho' fickle she

A woman has❜t by kind:

O woman lovely, woman fair!

prove,

An angel form's faun to thy share,
'Twad been o'er meikle to've gien thee mair,
I mean an angel mind.

FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON.

TUNE-Afton Water.

FLOW gently, sweet Afton,among thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.

Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen,

Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming for

bear,

I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.

How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye.

How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below,
Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow;
There oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea,

The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me.