The poem
Chorus—This is no my ain lassie, Fair tho, the lassie be; Weel ken I my ain lassie, Kind love is in her e’re.
I SEE a form, I see a face, Ye weel may wi’ the fairest place; It wants, to me, the witching grace, The kind love that’s in her e’e. This is no my ain, &c.
She’s bonie, blooming, straight, and tall, And lang has had my heart in thrall; And aye it charms my very saul, The kind love that’s in her e’e. This is no my ain, &c.
A thief sae pawkie is my Jean, To steal a blink, by a’ unseen; But gleg as light are lover’s een, When kind love is in her e’e. This is no my ain, &c.
It may escape the courtly sparks, It may escape the learned clerks; But well the watching lover marks The kind love that’s in her eye. This is no my ain, &c.