When trees did bud, and fields were green, and broom bloom’d fair to see, When Mary was complete fifteen, and love langh’d in her e’e; Blyth Davie's blinks her heart did move, to speak her mind thus free. Gang down the burn, Davie, love, and I shall follow thee.
Blythe Davie’s blinks, &c.
Now Davie did each lad surpass, that dwelt on the burn-side, And Mary was the bonniest lass, just meet to be a bride: Her cheeks were rosy red and white, her een were bonny blu: Her looks were like Aurora bright, her lips like dropping dew.
Her cheeks, &c.
As down the burn they took their way, what tender tales they said His cheek to her’s he ast did lay, and on his flute he play’d: They walk'd and talk’d till weary grown, no pair wae e’er more blest: In yonder vale they lean’d them down, and loving tales rehearst.
They walk’d, &c.
Thus chearfully these lovers lay, there nothing was unmeet: And, ganging hame, I heard them say, they lik’d a walk sae sweet; And that they often would return, such pleasure to renew: Quoth Mary, love, I like the burn, and ay shall follow you. And that they often, &c.
