THE bonniest lass in a' the warld,
I've often heard them telling,
She's up the hill, she's down the glen,
She's in yon lonely dwelling.
But nane could bring her to my
mind,
Wha lives but in the fancy,
Is't Kate or Shusie, Jean or May?
Is't Effie, Bess, or Nancy?
Now lassies a' keep a gude heart,
Nor envy e'er a comrade,
For be ye're een black, blue, or grey,
Ye're bonniest aye to some lad.
The tender heart, the cheering
smile,
The truth that ne'er will falter,
Are charms that never can beguile,
And time can never alter.
