It is naething but a lilt,
Yet its rinnin' in my heid;
Just a lilt, an' that is a',
O' an auld auld-warld screed.
Yet it haunts me ben the hoose,
An' it follows me ootby,
The sang that Jenny sings,
When she's milkin' the kye.
An' it's a' made oot o' nocht;
Just a lad an' lassie fair,
Doon beside a wee bit burn
No' to meet ilk ither mair.
An' they pu' the birk sae green,
Wi' mony a weary sigh;
That is a' that Jenny sings,
When she's milkin' the kye.
Nae ane kens wha made the lilt,
Deid the singer lang, langsyne,
But a lassie sings his sang
Wi' her heart in ilka line.
An' I hear it ben the hoose,
An' it follows me ootby,
The sang that Jenny sings,
When she's milkin' the kye.