1.
Her flowing locks, the raven's wing,
Adown her neck and bosom hing.
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
And round that neck entwine her!
2.
Her lips are roses wat wi' dew -
O, what a feast, her bonie mou!
Her cheeks a mair celestial hue,
A crimson still diviner!

Her flowing locks, the raven's wing,
Down her neck and bosom hang.
How sweet unto that breast to cling,
And round that neck entwine her!

Her lips are roses wet with dew -
O, what a feast, her lovely mouth!
Her cheeks a more celestial hue,
A crimson still diviner!