Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
I dearly like the west,
For there the bonie lassie lives,
There's wild-woods grow, and rivers row,
But day and night my fancys' flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.
verse 2
I see her in the dewy flowers,
I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
There's not a bonie flower that springs,
By fountain, shaw, or green;
There's not a bonie bird that sings,
But minds me o' my Jean.