Where the sauchs half hide the burnie as it wimples on its way?

When the sinking sun comes glentin’ through the feathery birken tree,

Till ye’d trow a thousand fairy fires wer’ flichterin’ on the brae.

Wull ye meet me, Meenie Bell? Wull ye say ye’ll meet me there?

An’ come afore the gloamin’ fa’s to hear what I’ve to tell?

For I’m gaun away the morn, an’ I’ll weary lang an’ sair

’Or I see ye’re bonnie face again—sae meet me, Meenie Bell!

I’ll be far away frae Middlebie for monie an’ monie a day;

An’ I want ae curl o’ gowden hair to treasure evermore.

I’ve a keepsake braw for you, an’ I’ve something mair to say—

Aye! a hantle mair to tell ye than I’ve ever tell’t afore.

Thus I fleech’t wee Meenie Bell till her heart grew soft and kin’

An’ she met me near the burnie as the simmer gloamin fell;

We pairtit or ’twas day, an’ o’ a’ the nichts I min’

The brichtest in my mem’ry is that nicht wi’ Meenie Bell.

I thocht her heart was troth-fast, but my image faded oot,

An’ a stranger took the place in’t that she said she’d keep for me;

For time gaed creeping on, an’ her hopes changed into doobt

An’ doobt to caul’ mistrustin’, while I toilt ayont the sea.

I’ve warselt wi’ the worl’ weel—I’ve run a wunnin’ race,

But, aih! I’m of’en wushin’ when I maunder by mysel’,

An’ a’ my weary strivin’s through lang lanesome years I trace,

I had bidden puir i’ Middlebie and mairiet Meenie Bell.