Of A The Airts The Wind Can Blaw

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Of a' the airts the wind can blaw,
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I dearly like the west,
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For there the bonie lassie lives,
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The lassie I lo'e best:
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There's wild-woods grow, and rivers row,
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And mony a hill between:
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But day and night my fancys' flight
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Is ever wi' my Jean.

[Verse 2]
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I see her in the dewy flowers,
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I see her sweet and fair:
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I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
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I hear her charm the air:
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There's not a bonie flower that springs,
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By fountain, shaw, or green;
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There's not a bonie bird that sings,
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But minds me o' my Jean.