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.