Lassie Wi' the Lint-White Locks. 
By Burns, Robert. 


Lassie wi' the lint-white locks,
Bonie lassie, artless lassie!
Wilt thou wi' me tent the flocks?
Wilt thou be my dearie, O?

Now Nature cleeds the flowery lea,
And a' is young and sweet like thee;
O, wilt thou share its joys wi' me,
And say thou'lt be my dearie, O?

And when the welcome simmer shower
Has cheered ilk drooping little flower,
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower
At sultry noon, my dearie, O.

When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's hameward way,
Through yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my dearie, O.

And when the howling wintry blast
Disturbs my lassie's midnight rest,
Enclasped to my faithful breast,
I'll comfort thee, my dearie, O.