your beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,

and withers the faster, the faster it grows:

but the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,

ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.

then hey, for a lass, c.

and e'en when this beauty your bosom hath blest

the brightest o' beauty may cloy when possess'd;

but the sweet, yellow darlings wi' geordie impress'd,

the langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest.

then hey, for a lass, c.