O were my love yon lilac fair

O were my Love yon lilac fair,

Wi' purple blossoms to the spring,

And I a bird to shelter there,

When wearied on my little wing;

How I wad mourn when it was torn

By autumn wild and winter rude!

But I wad sing on wanton wing

When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.

O gin my Love were yon red rose

That grows upon the castle wa',

And I mysel a drap o' dew,

Into her bonnie breast to fa';

[O there, beyond expression blest,

I'd feast on beauty a' the night;

Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

Till fley'd awa' by Phoebus' light.]