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| THOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, | |
| By that pretty white hand o’ thine, | |
| And by a’ the lowing stars in heaven, | |
| That thou wad aye be mine! | |
| And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, | 5 |
| And by that kind heart o’ thine, | |
| By a’ the stars sown thick owre heaven, | |
| That thou shalt aye be mine! | |
| |
| Then foul fa’ the hands that wad loose sic bands, | |
| And the heart that wad part sic luve! | 10 |
| But there ’s nae hand can loose the band, | |
| But the finger o’ God abuve. | |
| Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, | |
| An’ my claithing ne’er sae mean. | |
| I wad lap me up rich i’ the faulds o’ luve,— | 15 |
| Heaven’s armfu’ o’ my Jean! | |
| |
| Her white arm wad be a pillow to me, | |
| Fu’ safter than the down; | |
| An’ Luve wad winnow owre us his kind, kind wings | |
| An’ sweetly I ’d sleep, an’ soun’. | 20 |
| Come here to me, thou lass o’ my luve! | |
| Come here and kneel wi’ me! | |
| The morn is fu’ o’ the presence o’ God, | |
| An’ I canna pray without thee. | |
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| The morn-wind is sweet ’mang the beds o’ new flowers, | 25 |
| The wee birds sing kindlie an’ hie; | |
| Our gudeman leans owre his kail-yard dike, | |
| And a blythe auld bodie is he. | |
| The Book maun be ta’en whan the carle comes hame, | |
| Wi’ the holie psalmodie; | 30 |
| And thou maun speak o’ me to thy God, | |
| And I will speak o’ thee. | |
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