Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

194 . Song—Blythe was She

Chorus.—Blythe, blythe and merry was she,

Blythe was she but and ben;

Blythe by the banks of Earn,

And blythe in Glenturit glen.

BY Oughtertyre grows the aik,

On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;

But Phemie was a bonier lass

Than braes o’ Yarrow ever saw.

Blythe, blythe, &c.

Her looks were like a flow’r in May,

Her smile was like a simmer morn:

She tripped by the banks o’ Earn,

As light’s a bird upon a thorn.

Blythe, blythe, &c.

Her bonie face it was as meek

As ony lamb upon a lea;

The evening sun was ne’er sae sweet,

As was the blink o’ Phemie’s e’e.

Blythe, blythe, &c.

The Highland hills I’ve wander’d wide,

And o’er the Lawlands I hae been;

But Phemie was the blythest lass

That ever trod the dewy green.

Blythe, blythe, &c.