It is Na, Jean, Thy Bonie Face by Robert Burns

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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 ungenerous wish I hae, / Nor stronger in my breast, / Than, if I canna make thee sae, / At least to see thee blest.

Content am I, if heaven shall give / But happiness, to thee; / And as wi' thee I'd wish to live, / For thee I'd bear to die.

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