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The Song Book 171
I tried to soothe my amorous flame,
In words that I thought tender ; If more there pass'd, I'm not to blame,
I meant not to offend her.
Yet now she scornful flies the plain,
The fields we then frequented : If e'er we meet, she shows disdain.,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush bloomed fair in May,
It's sweets I'll aye remember : But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.
Ye rural powers who hear my strains,
Why thus should Peggy grieve me ? O make her partner in my pains,
Then let her smiles relieve me :
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender ; I'll leave the Bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I '11 wander.
Words by Robert Crawford.
Tune 1 he Bush aboon Traquair.