Vārdi: Karen Matheson. Time To Fall. Bonnie Jean.

There was a lass an she was fair at kirk an' market tae be seen
When aw oor fairest maids were met, the flower o' them, bonnie Jean
Aye, she wrought her country work an she sang sae joyfully
The bonniest bird upon the bush hae ne'er a lighter heart than she

But hawks will rob the tender joys that bless the lint white nest
Frost will blight the fairest flower, love will break the soundest rest
For she met a braw young lad, the pride o'aw his glen
And he had owsen, sheep and kye, an bonnie horses nine or ten

The lad took Jeanie tae the tryst, danced the lassie on the down
Lang ere witless, Jeannie wist her heart wis tint, her peace was stown
As in the bosom o' the stream the moon dwells at dewy een
So trembling pure was tender love within the breast o' bonnie Jean

Monies a bird sang sweet o'love, flowers bloom ower the dale
An close tae her he aft did lay and whispered this, his tender tale
O Jeannie fair, I love thee dear an will ye gang wi me
Aye, an leave your parent's hame, and nothing else will trouble thee

So what could helpless Jeannie do?
She had nae will tae say him naw
At length she blushed a sweet consent
And love was aye between them twa