On bonnie birdeen
H. Hopekirk
On bonnie birdeen,
Sweet-bird of my heart --
Tell me, my dear one,
How shall we part?
He calls me, he cries
Who is father to thee:
O birdeen, his eyes
In these blue eyes I see.
Thou art wrought of our love,
Of our joy that was slain:
My birdeen, my dove,
My passion, my pain.