Lad, come kiss me
Whaur the twa burns rin.
Am I no' sweet as honey,
Wild as gouden whin,

Slim as the rowan,
Lips like berries reid,
Fey as siller mune-floo'er
That sprang frae fairy seed?

Luve, come clasp me
Whaur the twa burns rin,-
A'but the white soul o' me
That ye can never win.