Page:Five songs (2).pdf/7

The hinny lips, the creamy loof,
Or the waist o’ Lady Ann?

She kisses the lips o’ her bonnie red rose,
Wat wi’ the blobs o’ dew;
But nae gentle lip, nor semple lip,
Maun touch her lady mou’.
But a broidered belt wi’ a buckle o’ gowd,
Her jimpy waist mann span:
O she’s an armfu’ fit for heaven,
My bonnie Lady Ann.

Her bower casement is lattic’d wi’ flow’rs
Tied up wi’ siller thread;
And comely sits she in the midst,
Men’s langing een to feed:
She waves the ringlets frae her cheek,
Wi’ her milky, milky han’;
And her every look beams wi’ grace divine,
My bonnie Lady Ann.

The morning cloud is tassel’d wi’ gowd,
Like my luve’s broider’d cap;
An’ on the mantle which my luve wears,
Is monie a gowden drap.
Her bonnie eebree’s a holie arch,
Cast by nae earthly han’;
An’ the breath o’ heaven’s atween the lips
O my bonnie Lady Ann,

I wondering gaze on her stately steps,
An’ I beet a hopeless flame;
To my love, alas! she mauna stoop,
It wad stain her honoured name.