I Gaed A Waefu' Gate Yestreen

     I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,
     A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue;
     I gat my death frae twa sweet een,
     Twa lovely een o'bonie blue.

     'Twas not her golden ringlets bright,
     Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,
     Her heaving bosom, lily-white—
     It was her een sae bonie blue.

     She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd;
     She charm'd my soul I wist na how;
     And aye the stound, the deadly wound,
     Cam frae her een so bonie blue.
     But "spare to speak, and spare to speed;"
     She'll aiblins listen to my vow:
     Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead
     To her twa een sae bonie blue.