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Robert Tannahill

By Yon Burnside

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We'll meet beside the dusky glen, on yon burn side,

Whare the bushes form a cozie den, on yon burn side,

Tho' the broomy knowes be green,

Yet, there we may be seen,

But we'll meet— well meet at e'en, down by yon burn side.

Ill lead thee to the birken bow'r, on yon burn side,

Sae sweetly wove wi' woodbine flow'r, on yon burn side,

There the busy prying eye,

Ne'er disturbs the lovers' joy.

While in ithers' arms they lie, down by yon burn side.

Awa', ye rude unfeeling crew, frae yon burn side,

Those fairy scenes are no' for you, by yon burn side, —

There Fancy smoothes her theme,

By the sweetly murm'ring stream,

An' the rock-lodg'd echoes skim, down by yon burn side.

Now the plantin' taps are ting'd wi' goud, on yon burn side,

An' gloamin' draws her foggy shroud o'er yon burn side,

Far frae the noisy scene,

I’ll through the fields alane,

There we'll meet — My ain dear Jean ! down by yon burn side.