O Marion is a bonny lass,
There's witch'ry in her smile;
And yet by all it is confest,
That Marion's free from guile.
To hear her speak, there's music in't;
To see her dance at e'en,
So light she moves, you'd think you saw
Some Fairy trip the green.
 
Whene'er she sings, her artless notes
In sweetness far exceed
The echo, that from rock to rock
Repeats the shepherd's reed.
And all the while a wavering blush
On her cheek of beauty glows,
Like a bonny bird that sings half hid
Beneath a dewy rose.