Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks?
Wilt thou be my dearie O?
Now nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a’ is young and sweet like thee;
O wilt thou share its joys wi’ me,
And say thou’lt be my dearie O?
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks...
And when the welcome simmer-shower
Has cheer’d ilk drooping little flower,
We’ll to the breathing woodbine bower
At sultry noon, my dearie O.
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks...
When Cynthia lights, wi’ silver ray,
The weary shearer’s hameward way,
Thro’ yellow waving fields we’ll stray,
And talk o’ love, my dearie O.
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks...
And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie’s midnight rest;
Enclasped to my faithfu’ breast,
I’ll comfort thee, my dearie O.
Lassie wi’ the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie,
Wilt thou wi’ me tent the flocks?
Wilt thou be my dearie O?