Sae flaxen were her ringlets,
Her eye-brows of a darker hue,
Bewitchingly o'er arching
Twa laughing een o' bonnie blue.
Her smiling, sae wyling,
Wou'd make a wretch forget his woe;
What pleasure, what treasure,
Unto those rosy lips to grow:
Such was my Chloris' bonnie face,
When first her bonnie face I saw;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.
Like harmony her motion;
Her pretty ancle is a spy,
Betraying fair proportion,
Wou'd make a saint forget the sky;
Sae warming, sae charming,
Her fautless form and gracefu' air;
Ilk feature -- auld nature
Declar'd that she cou'd do nae mair!
Her's are the willing chains o' love,
By conquering beauty's sov'reign law;
And ay my Chloris' dearest charm,
She says she lo'es me best of a'.
Let others love the city,
And gaudy shew at sunny noon;
Gi'e me the lonely valley,
The dewy eve, the rising moon;
Fair beaming, and streaming
Her silver light the boughs amang;
While falling, recalling,
The amorous thrush concludes his sang;
There, dearest Chloris, wilt thou rove
By wimpling burn and leafy shaw,
And hear my vows o' truth and love,
And say thou lo'es me best of a'.