Classic Poem

The wind blaws saft frae south to north,
An' wafts the seedlin' frae the flower
Far ower the broad and glassy Forth,
To grow in bonny Aberdour.
Fair Aberdour, dear Aberdour!
O gin I were that seedlin' flower,
That thus the air might bear me ower
To love an' bonny Aberdour.

Gin planted in that fertile soil,
The fairest flower I'd aim to be,
That I might win my laddie's smile,
And light wi' love his sparklin' ee.
Fair Aberdour, dear Aberdour!
O gin I were that seedlin' flower,
That thus the air might bear me ower
To love and bonny Aberdour.

And gin that flower he deigned to pu'
And wear upon his manly breast,
My glowing love wad pierce him through,
My joy wad mak him mair than blest.
Fair Aberdour, dear Aberdour,
O gin I were that seedlin' flower,
That thus the air might bear me ower
To love and bonny Aberdour!