C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

An Thou Were My Ain Thing

AN thou were my ain thing,

I would love thee, I would love thee;

An thou were my ain thing,

How dearly would I love thee.

Like bees that suck the morning dew

Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue,

Sae wad I dwell upo’ thy mou’,

And gar the gods envy me.
An thou were, etc.

Sae lang’s I had the use of light,

I’d on thy beauties feast my sight;

Syne in saft whispers through the night

I’d tell how much I looed thee.
An thou were, etc.

How fair and ruddy is my Jean!

She moves a goddess o’er the green:

Were I a king, thou should be queen,

Nane but myself aboon thee.
An thou were, etc.

I’d grasp thee to this breast of mine,

Whilst thou like ivy, or the vine,

Around my stronger limbs should twine,

Formed hardy to defend thee.
An thou were, etc.

Time’s on the wing and will not stay;

In shining youth let’s make our hay,

Since love admits of no delay;

Oh, let na scorn undo thee.
An thou were, etc.

While love does at his altar stand,

Hae, there’s my heart, gi’e me thy hand,

And with ilk smile thou shalt command

The will of him wha loves thee.
An thou were, etc.