Sae flaxen were her ringlets,Her eyebrows of a darker hue,Bewitchingly o’er-archingTwa laughing e’en o’ lovely blue;Her smiling, sae wyling.Wad make a wretch forget his woe;What pleasure, what treasure,Unto these rosy lips to grow!Such was my Chloris’ bonie face,When first that bonie face I saw;And aye my Chloris’ dearest charm—She says, she lo’es me best of a’.12
Like harmony her motion,Her pretty ankle is a spy,Betraying fair proportion,Wad make a saint forget the sky:Sae warming, sae charming,Her faultless form and gracefu’ air;Ilk feature—auld NatureDeclar’d that she could do nae mair:Hers are the willing chains o’ love,By conquering Beauty’s sovereign law;And still my Chloris’ dearest charm—She says, she lo’es me best of a’.24
Let others love the city,And gaudy show, at sunny noon;Gie me the lonely valley,The dewy eve and rising moon,Fair beaming, and streaming,Her silver light the boughs amang;While falling; recalling,The amorous thrush concludes his sang;There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove,By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,And hear my vows o’ truth and love,And say, thou lo’es me best of a’.36