your beauty's a flower in the morning that blows,
and withers the faster, the faster it grows:
but the rapturous charm o' the bonie green knowes,
ilk spring they're new deckit wi' bonie white yowes.
then hey, for a lass, &c.
and e'en when this beauty your bosom hath blest
the brightest o' beauty may cloy when possess'd;
but the sweet, yellow darlings wi' geordie impress'd,
the langer ye hae them, the mair they're carest.
then hey, for a lass, &c.