Yae nicht aneath the mune's pure licht
That bathed the moor in silvery sheen
I spiered her gin her hert was mine;
"It's yours for aye," quo' Bonnie Jean.
The years rolled owre oor heids since then
Hae mony joys an' sorrows gi'en,
But still I share them, yin an' a',
Wi' my leal-hearted Bonnie Jean.