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　　I Gaed A Waefu' Gate Yestreen

　　I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen,

　　A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue;

　　I gat my death frae twa sweet een,

　　Twa lovely een o'bonie blue.

　　'Twas not her golden ringlets bright,

　　Her lips like roses wat wi' dew,

　　Her heaving bosom, lily-white—

　　It was her een sae bonie blue.

　　She talk'd, she smil'd, my heart she wyl'd;

　　She charm'd my soul I wist na how;

　　And aye the stound, the deadly wound,

　　Cam frae her een so bonie blue.

　　But “spare to speak, and spare to speed;”

　　She'll aiblins listen to my vow:

　　Should she refuse, I'll lay my dead

　　To her twa een sae bonie blue. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns