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The Lass O' Ballochmyle
TUNE: Ettrick Banks

 

Burns Original

Standard English Translation



The Lass O' Ballochmyle
1.
'Twas even: the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang,
The zephyr wanton'd round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets alang,
In ev'ry glen the mavis sang,
All Nature list'ning seem'd the while,
Except where greenwood echoes rang
Amang the braes o' Ballochmyle.
2.
With careless step I onward stray'd,
My heart rejoic'd in Nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanc'd to spy.
Her look was like the Morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile.
Perfection whisper'd, passing by:-
' Behold the lass o' Ballochmyle!'
3.
Fair is the morn in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But women, Nature's darling child -
There all her charms she does compile!
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle.
4.
O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Tho' shelter'd in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotia's plain,
Thro' weary winter's wind and rain
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The bonie lass o' Ballochmyle!
5.
Then pride might climb the slipp'ry steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine.
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine!
Give me the cot below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And ev'ry day have joys divine
With the bonie lass o' Ballochmyle.



The Girl Of Ballochmyle

It was evening: the dewy fields were green,
On every blade the pearls hang,
The zephyr wantoned round the bean,
And bore its fragrant sweets along,
In every glen the mavis sang,
All Nature listening seemed the while,
Except where green-wood echoes rang
Among the hill sides of Ballochmyle.

With careless step I onward strayed,
My heart rejoiced in Nature's joy,
When musing in a lonely glade,
A maiden fair I chanced to spy.
Her look was like the Morning's eye,
Her air like Nature's vernal smile.
Perfection whispered, passing by:-
' Behold the lass of Ballochmyle!'

Fair is the morning in flowery May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving through the garden gay,
Or wandering in the lonely wild;
But women, Nature's darling child -
There all her charms she does compile!
Even there her other works are foiled
By the lovely lass of Ballochmyle.

O, had she been a country maid,
And I the happy country swain,
Though sheltered in the lowest shed
That ever rose on Scotia's plain,
Through weary winter's wind and rain
With joy, with rapture, I would toil,
And nightly to my bosom strain
The lovely lass of Ballochmyle!

Then pride might climb the slippery steep,
Where fame and honours lofty shine.
And thirst of gold might tempt the deep,
Or downward seek the Indian mine!
Give me the cottage below the pine,
To tend the flocks or till the soil,
And every day have joys divine
With the lovely lass of Ballochmyle.

 

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