It is na, Jean, thy bonie face
Nor shape that I admire,
Altho thy beauty and thy grace
Might weel awauk desire.

Something in ilka part o' thee
To praise, to love, I find;
But, dear as is thy form to me,
Still dearer is thy mind.

Nae mair ungenrous wish I hae,
Nor stronger in my breast,
Than, if I canna mak thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if Heaven shall give
But happiness to thee,
And, as wi' thee I wish to live,
For thee I'd bear to dee.