Lassie, with the lips sae rosy

Lassie, with the lips sae rosy,

With the eyne sae saft and bricht,

Dear wee lassie, I keep thinkin',

Thinkin' on thee day and nicht.

Winter nichts are lang and eerie;

Oh, gin I were with thee, dear,

Arms about thee, cracking couthly,

With nae mortal by to hear!

With my kisses I would smother

Thy white hand sae jimp and sma',

And my tears for very rapture

On that wee white hand should fa'.