Lovely Jean

Of a’ the airts the win’ can blaw, I dearly like the west; For there the bonny lassie lives, The lass that I lo’e best; Tho’ wild woods grow, an rivers row, Wi’ mony a hill between, Baith day an’ night my fancy’s fligh Is ever wi' my Jean.

I see her in the dewy flower, Sae lovely, sweet, an’ fair; I hear her voice in ilka bird, Wi' music charm the air; There’s not a bonny flow’r that springs, By fountain shaw or green, Nor yet a bonny bird that sings, But minds me o’ my Jean.

O blaw, ye westlin win's, blaw soft, Amang the leafy trees; Wi' gentle breath, frae muir an' dale; Bring hame the laden bees; An' bring the lassie back to me, That's ay sae neat an' clean! Ae blink o' her wad banish care, Sae charming is my Jean!

What sighs and vows amang the knowes, Hae past atween us twa; How fain to meet and wae to part, That day she gade awa! The pow’rs aboon can only ken, To whom the heart is seen ; That nane can be sae dear to me, As my sweet lovely Jean.