The Bonnie Bird

Oh, where snared ye that bonnie, bonnie bird?
Oh, where wiled ye that winsome fairy?
I fear me it was where nae truth was heard,
And far frae the shrine o' guid St Mary.

I didna snare the bonnie, bonnie bird,
Nor try ony wiles wi' the winsome fairy,
But won her young heart where the angels heard,
In the bowery glen of Inverary.

And what want ye wi' sic a bonnie bird?
I fear me its plumes ye will ruffle sairly;
Or bring it low down to the lane kirkyard,
Where blossoms o' grace are planted early.

As life I love my bonnie, bonnie bird,
Its plumage shall never be ruffled sairly;
To the day o' doom I will keep my word,
An' cherish my bonnie bird late an' early.

Oh, whence rings out that merry, merry peal?
The laugh and the sang are cherish'd rarely;
It is--it is the bonny, bonny bird,
Wi' twa sma' voices a' piping early.

For he didna snare that bonny, bonny bird,
Nor did he beguile the winsome fairy,
He had made her his ain, where the angels heard,
At the holy shrine o' the blest St Mary.