Song Xxxvi. My Dear, O Poem by Robert Anderson

Just where yon burn trots thro' the broom,
Amang the birks sae mony, O,
Where gowans glint and blue--bells bloom,
And lintwhites sing sae bonny, O,
A lass there lives right fair to see,
Wi' gracefu' air enchanting, O,
Whase rose--bud cheek and sparkling e'e
Ha'e set this heart a panting, O.

Her presence mak's me cheery, O,
Her absence mak's me weary, O:
'Tis my delight,
Baith day and night,
To gaze upo' my deary, O.

I'd leave the town and a' its pride,
The seat o' Vice and Slander, O,
At eve yon burnie's flow'ry side
Wi' my sweet lass to wander, O.
Let Fortune shun my lowly cot,
And wealthy sauls frown on me, O,
The fickle jade I'd mind her not,
Wou'd Annie smile upon me, O:

Her presence mak's me cheery, O, &c.

Ye painted prudes, wi' a' your art,
In silk and siller flaunting, O,
Whase costly claise aft hides a heart
Where modesty is wanting, O,
My Annie scorns your borrow'd grace,
And, sweet as May--day morning, O,
Bright Health blooms on her cheerfu' face,
In spite of a' your scorning, O.

Her presence mak's me cheery, O,
Her absence mak's me weary, O:
'Tis my delight,
Baith day and night,
To gaze upo' my deary, O.