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25
When Winter blaws in sleety show'rs,
Frae aff the Norlin hills sae hi',
He lightly kisss thy bonny bow'rs,
As laith to harm a flow'r in thee.
Frae aff the Norlin hills sae hi',
He lightly kisss thy bonny bow'rs,
As laith to harm a flow'r in thee.
Thou bonny Wood, &c.
Tho' Fate should drag me south the Line,
Or owre the wide Atlantic sea,
The happy hours I'll ever min',
That I in youth hae spent in thee.
Thou bonny wood, &c
Or owre the wide Atlantic sea,
The happy hours I'll ever min',
That I in youth hae spent in thee.
Thou bonny wood, &c
———0———
The Village Maid.
I would not change for cups of gold
This little cup that you behold
'Tis from the beech that gave a shade,
At noon-day, to my Village-Maid.
This little cup that you behold
'Tis from the beech that gave a shade,
At noon-day, to my Village-Maid.
I would not change for Persian loom,
This humble matting of my room;
'Tis of those very, rushes twin'd,
Oft press'd by charming Rosalind.
This humble matting of my room;
'Tis of those very, rushes twin'd,
Oft press'd by charming Rosalind.
I would not change my lovely wicket.
That opens in her fav'rite thicket,
For portals proud, or tow'rs that frown,
The monuments of old renown.
That opens in her fav'rite thicket,
For portals proud, or tow'rs that frown,
The monuments of old renown.
C
