O WERE my Love yon Lilac fair,
Wi' purple blossoms to the Spring,
And I, a bird to shelter there,
When wearied on my little wing!
How I wad mourn when it was torn
By Autumn wild, and Winter rude!
But I wad sing on wanton wing,
When youthfu' May its bloom renew'd.
[O gin my love were yon red rose,
That grows upon the castle wa'!
And I myself a drap o' dew,
Into her bonie breast to fa'!
Oh, there beyond expression blesst,
I'd feast on beauty a' the night;
Seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
Till fley'd awa by Phebus' light!]