O Listen to me, love, anâ€™ mark what I sayâ€”
Thinkna my loveâ€™s like a fause April day,
Kything in sunshine, anâ€™ setting in showâ€™r,
Leaving in ruin the noon-cherishâ€™d flowâ€™r.
No, lassie, no: thou hast seen the lark rise,
Warbling and soaring his way to the skies,
Farther frae aâ€™ he loves, warmer his lay,
So will my true heart beâ€”mark what I say.
I ken that you loâ€™e me, by that tear let faâ€™
On my hanâ€™ thatâ€™s a fondlinâ€™ thy jimp waist sae smaâ€™
Anâ€™ young love a-stealing the rose frae thy cheek,
For fear that in blushes the truth it wad speak.
The night gathers round us, I scarcely can see
The ane that is mair than the warld to me,
But her wee hanâ€™s soft pressure like kind words did say,
Iâ€™m yours, Willie only, yours only, for aye.