O This Is No My Ain Lassie
I see a form, I see a face,
Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place:
It wants, to me, the witching grace,
The kind love that’s in her e’e.
O this is no my ain lassie,
Fair tho’ the lassie be;
O weel ken I my ain lassie,
Kind love is in her e’e.
She’s bonnie, blooming, straight, and tall,
And lang has had my heart in thrall;
And aye it charms my very saul,
The kind love that’s in her e’e.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean,
To steal a blink, by a’ unseen;
But gleg as light are lovers’ e’en,
When kind love is in the e’e.
It may escape the courtly sparks,
It may escape the learnèd clerks;
But weel the watching lover marks
The kind love that’s in her e’e.