o were my love yon lilac fair

　　air—“hughie graham.”

　　o were my love yon lilac fair,

　　wi' purple blossoms to the spring,

　　and i, a bird to shelter there,

　　when wearied on my little wing!

　　how i wad mourn when it was torn

　　by autumn wild, and winter rude!

　　but i wad sing on wanton wing,

　　when youthfu' may its bloom renew'd.

　　o gin my love were yon red rose,

　　that grows upon the castle wa';

　　and i myself a drap o' dew,

　　into her bonie breast to fa'!

　　o there, beyond expression blest,

　　i'd feast on beauty a' the night;

　　seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,

　　till fley'd awa by phoebus' light!