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, lasses a', keep a gude heart,
Nor envy e'er a comrade,
For be yere 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.