This text comes from The Poetical Works of Robert Burns, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Chorus
Blithe, blithe and merry was she,
Blithe was she but and ben:
Blithe by the banks of Ern,
But blither in Glenturit glen.
By Ochtertyre grows the aik,
On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonier lass
Than braes o' Yarrow ever saw.
Blithe, &c.
Her looks were like a flower in May,
Her smile was like a simmer morn;
She tripped by the banks of Ern
As light's a bird upon a thorn.
Blithe, &c.
Her bonie face it was as meek
As onie lamb's upon a lee;
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
As was the blink o' Phemie's ee.
Blithe, &c.
The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
And o'er the Lowlands I hae been;
But Phemie was the blithest lass
That ever trod the dewy green.
Blithe, &c.