Classic Poem

Tune, Andrew an' his cutty gun

Chorus

By Oughtertyre grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonier lass
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw. —

Chorus

Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she but and ben:
Blythe by the banks of Ern,
And blythe in Glenturit glen. —

2

Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn,
She tripped by the banks of Ern
As light 's a bird upon a thorn. —

3

Her bony face it was as meek
As ony lamb upon a lee;
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's e'e. —

4

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the lawlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blythest lass
That ever trode the dewy green. —