OF 1 a' the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best:
There's wild-woods grow, and rivers row,
And mony a hill between:
But day and night my fancys' flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flowers,
I see her sweet and fair:
I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
I hear her charm the air:
There's not a bonie flower that springs,
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There's not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.
More verses by Robert Burns
- Song—my Collier Laddie
- Verses Written With A Pencil At The Inn At Kenmore
- Sketch In Verse, Inscribed To The Right Hon. C. J. Fox
- Song—the Bonie Wee Thing
- Song—behold, My Love, How Green The Groves