Sing On, Sing On, My Bonny Bird

Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The sang ye sung yestreen, O,
When here, aneath the hawthorn wild
I met my bonny Jean O !
My blude ran prinklin' through my veins,
My hair begoud to steer, O ;
My heart play'd deep against my breast,
When I beheld my dear, O !

O weel's me on my happy lot,
O weel's me o' my dearie,
O weel's me o' the charming spot
Where a' combined to cheer me I
The mavis liltit on the bush,
The laverock o'er the green, O,
The lily bloom 'd, the daisy blush'd,
But a' war nought to Jean, O !

Sing on, sing on, my bonny thrush,
Be nouther fley'd nor eerie ;
I'll wad your love sits in the bush,
That gars ye sing sae cheerie.
She may be kind, she may be sweet,
She may be neat an' clean, O,
But O, she's but a drysome mate
Compared wi' bonny Jean, O !

If love wad open a' her stores,
An' a' her blooming treasures,
An' bid me rise, an' turn an' choose,
An' taste her chiefest pleasures,
My choice wad be the rosy cheek,
The modest beaming eye, O;
The auburn hair, the bosom fair,
The lips o' coral dye, O !

A bremble shade around our head,
A burnie popplin by, O ;
Our bed the sward, our sheet the plaid,
Our canopy the sky, O !
An' here's the burn, an' there's the bush,
Around the flowery green, O ;
An' this the plaid, an' sure the lass
Wad be my bonny Jean, O !

Hear me, thou bonny modest moon,
Ye sternies, twinklin' high, O,
An' a' ye gentle powers aboon,
That roam athwart the sky, O !
Ye see me gratefu' for the past,
Ye saw me blest yestreen, O,
An' ever till I breathe my last,
Ye'll see me true to Jean O !