Chapter 820 of 1414 · 49 words · ~1 min read

I.

Now bank an' brae are claith'd in green, An' scattered cowslips sweetly spring; By Girvan's fairy-haunted stream, The birdies flit on wanton wing. To Cassillis' banks when e'ening fa's, There wi' my Mary let me flee, There catch her ilka glance of love, The bonnie blink o' Mary's e'e!