Annie Laurie

MAXWELTON'S braes are bonnie,
When dew-y haars are sweet:
And Maida bank are bonnie,
Against the clear June sun.

Oh, aye she's ower the lammies,
Ower the lammies she did creep;
Wi' mony a sigh her guidman, sigh'd
And O, she's ower the burn.

She's ower the hielands and the lowlands,
She's walk'd sae fast and free;
And noo she's back amang the bretherin a',
And O, she's ower the burn.

Her brow is like the snawdrift,
Her throat is like the swan,
Her face it is the simmer's kiss,
As white as lilies fair.

Her cheeks are like the blushing rose,
The deepest dye she wears;
And O, her breath is, like the, sweet
May morning airs.

Her eyes are like the starry sky,
Her latest words they tell,
She's walkin' in the land of dreams,
And O, she's ower the burn.

She's walkin' in the land of dreams,
She's walkin' in the land of dreams,
And O, she's ower the burn.