Previous work:

On Miss Wilhelmina Alexander


'Twas ev'n, the dewy fields were green, On ev'ry blade, the pearls hang, The Zephyr wanton'd round the bean, And bore its fragrant sweets alang; In ev'ry glen the Mavis sang, All nature list'ning seem'd the while; Except where greenwood Echos rang Amang the braes o'Ballochmyle. With careless step I onward stray'd My heart rejoic'd in Nature's joy, When, musing in a lonely glade, A Maiden fair I chanc'd to spy: Her look was like the Morning's eye, Her air like Nature's vernal smile, The lilies' hue and roses' die Bespoke the Lass o'Ballochmyle. Fair is a morn in flow'ry May, And sweet an ev'n in Autumn mild; When roving through the garden gay, Or wand'ring in the lonely wild; But Woman, Nature's darling child, There all her charms she does compile, And all her other works are foil'd By th' bony Lass o'Ballochmyle. O if she were a country Maid, And I the happy country Swain! Though shelt'red in the lowest shed That ever rose on Scotia's plain: Through weary Winter's wind and rain, With joy, with rapture I would toil, And nightly to my bosom strain The bony Lass o'Ballochmyle. Then Pride might climb the slipp'ry steep Where fame and honors lofty shine: And thirst of gold might tempt the deep Or downward seek the Indian mine: Give me the Cot below the pine, To tend the flocks or till the soil, And ev'ry day has joys divine With th' bony Lass o'Ballochmyle.

Listen

Gary Lewis

About this work

This is a song by Robert Burns. It was written in 1786 and is read here by Gary Lewis.

Themes for this song

beauty nature woman

Skip to top

BBC © 2014 The BBC is not responsible for the content of external sites. Read more.

This page is best viewed in an up-to-date web browser with style sheets (CSS) enabled. While you will be able to view the content of this page in your current browser, you will not be able to get the full visual experience. Please consider upgrading your browser software or enabling style sheets (CSS) if you are able to do so.