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She Says She Loes Me Best Of A'

Tune—"Oonagh's Waterfall."

     Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
     Her eyebrows of a darker hue,
     Bewitchingly o'er-arching
     Twa laughing e'en o' lovely blue;
     Her smiling, sae wyling.
     Wad make a wretch forget his woe;
     What pleasure, what treasure,
     Unto these rosy lips to grow!
     Such was my Chloris' bonie face,
     When first that bonie face I saw;
     And aye my Chloris' dearest charm—
     She says, she lo'es me best of a'.

     Like harmony her motion,
     Her pretty ankle is a spy,
     Betraying fair proportion,
     Wad make a saint forget the sky:
     Sae warming, sae charming,
     Her faultless form and gracefu' air;
     Ilk feature—auld Nature
     Declar'd that she could do nae mair:
     Hers are the willing chains o' love,
     By conquering Beauty's sovereign law;
     And still my Chloris' dearest charm—
     She says, she lo'es me best of a'.

     Let others love the city,
     And gaudy show, at sunny noon;
     Gie me the lonely valley,
     The dewy eve and rising moon,
     Fair beaming, and streaming,
     Her silver light the boughs amang;
     While falling; recalling,
     The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
     There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove,
     By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
     And hear my vows o' truth and love,
     And say, thou lo'es me best of a'.

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