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When dressing Nature busks the vale,
And sprinkles on her dew,
Her bonny silver mantle shines
Out o' the clearest hue;
So neat and fair, wi' splendour rare,
She dazzles a' our een;
Yet fairer dress, she maun confess,
Adorns my bonny Jean.
How sweetly in the summer's e'en,
She skips the gilded plain:
While all the little warbling bands,
Sing welcome back again.
Their tender noise sends cheery joys
Through a’ the hills atween;
The ilka dale, and flowry vale,
Pay homage to my Jean.
FINIS.
