Oh , how could I venture to love one like thee,
And you not despise a poor conquest like me,
On lords, thy admirers, could look wi' disdain,
And knew I was naething, yet pitied my pain?
You said, while they teased you with nonsense and dress,
When real the passion, the vanity's less;
You saw through that silence which others despise,
And, while beaux were a-talking, read love in my eyes

Oh, how shall I fauld thee, and kiss a' thy charms,
Till, fainting wi' pleasure, I die in your arms;
Through all the wild transports of ecstasy tost,
Till, sinking together, together we're lost!
Oh, where is the maid that like thee ne'er can cloy,
Whose wit can enliven each dull pause of joy;
And when the short raptures are all at an end,
From beautiful mistress turn sensible friend?

In vain do I praise thee, or strive to reveal,
(Too nice for expression), what only we feel:
In a' that ye do, in each look and each mien,
The graces in waiting adorn you unseen
When I see you I love you, when hearing adore;
I wonder and think you a woman no more:
Till, mad wi' admiring, I canna contain,
And, kissing your lips, you turn woman again.

With thee in my bosom, how can I despair?
I'll gaze on thy beauties, and look awa care;
I'll ask thy advice, when with troubles opprest,
Which never displeases, but always is best
In all that I write I'll thy judgment require:
Thy wit shall correct what thy charms did inspire
I'll kiss thee and press thee till youth is all o'er,
And then live in friendship, when passion's no more.