Classic Poem

Red rows the Nith 'tween bank and brae,
Mirk is the night and rainie O,
Though heaven and earth should mix in storm,
I'll gang and see my Nanie O;
My Nanie O, my Nanie O;
My kind and winsome Nanie O,
She holds my heart in love's dear bands,
And nane can do 't but Nanie O.

In preaching-time sae meek she stands,
Sae saintly and sae bonny O,
I cannot get ae glimpse of grace,
For thieving looks at Nanie O;
My Nanie O, my Nanie O;
The world's in love with Nanie O;
That heart is hardly worth the wear
That wadna love my Nanie O.

My breast can scarce contain my heart,
When dancing she moves finely O;
I guess what heaven is by her eyes,
They sparkle sae divinely O;
My Nanie O, my Nanie O,
The flower o' Nithsdale's Nanie O;
Love looks frae 'neath her lang brown hair,
And says, I dwell with Nanie O.

Tell not, thou star at grey daylight,
O'er Tinwald-tap sae bonny O,
My footsteps 'mang the morning dew
When coming frae my Nanie O;
My Nanie O, my Nanie O;
Nane ken o' me and Nanie O;
The stars and moon may tell't aboon,
They winna wrang my Nanie O!