This text comes from The Book of Scottish Song, edited by Alexander Whitelaw, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
As I came through Glendochart vale,
Where mists o'ertap the mountains grey
A wee bit lassie met my view,
As cantily she held her way:
But O sic love each feature bore,
She made my saul wi' rapture glow!
An' aye she spake sae kind and sweet,
I couldna keep my heart in tow.
O speak na o' your courtly queans!
My wee bit lassie fools them a':
The little cuttie's done me skaith,
She's stown my thoughtless heart awa'.
Her smile was like the grey-e'ed morn,
Whan spreading on the mountain green;
Her voice saft as the mavis' sang;
An' sweet the twinkle o' her een:
A boon her brow, sae bonnie brent,
Her raven locks waved o'er her e'e;
An' ilka slee bewitching glance
Conveyed a dart o' love to me.
O speak na o' your courtly queans, &c.
The lasses fair in Scotia's isle,
Their beauties a' what tongue can tell?
But o'er the fairest o' them a'
My wee bit lassie bears the bell.
O had I never mark'd her smile,
Nor seen the twinkle o' her e'e!
It might na been my lot the day,
A waefu' lade o' care to dree.
O speak na o' your courtly queans, &c.