The poem
O, WERE I on Parnassus hill, Or had o’ Helicon my fill, That I might catch poetic skill, To sing how dear I love thee! But Nith maun be my Muse’s well, My Muse maun be thy bonie sel’, On Corsincon I’ll glowr and spell, And write how dear I love thee.
Then come, sweet Muse, inspire my lay! For a’ the lee-lang simmer’s day I couldna sing, I couldna say, How much, how dear, I love thee, I see thee dancing o’er the green, Thy waist sae jimp, thy limbs sae clean, Thy tempting lips, thy roguish een— By Heaven and Earth I love thee!
By night, by day, a-field, at hame, The thoughts o’ thee my breast inflame: And aye I muse and sing thy name— I only live to love thee. Tho’ I were doom’d to wander on, Beyond the sea, beyond the sun, Till my last weary sand was run; Till then—and then I love thee!