The Beauties of Burn's Poems/Now Westlin Winds

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

For other versions of this work, see Now Westlin Winds.

SONG.

COMPOSED IN AUGUST.

Tune—I had a Horse, &c.

Now Westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns,
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather;
The Muircock springs on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather:
Now waving grain, wide owre the plain,
Delights the weary Farmer;
The moon shines bright, when I rove at night,
To muse upon my Charmer.

The Partridge loves the fruitful fell,
The Plover loves the mountains,
The Woodcock haunts the lonely dales,
The soaring Heron the fountains,
Thro' lofty groves the Cushat roves,
The paths of man to shun it,
The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush,
The spreading thorn the Linnet,

Thus ev'ry kind their nature find,
The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine;
Some solitary wander:
Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion;
The Sportsman's joy, the murd'rer's cry,
The flutt'ring gory pinion.

But Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,
Thick flies the skimmin Swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All waving green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms of nature;
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn,
And ev'ry happy creature.

We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
Till the silent moon shine clearly;
I'll grasp thy waist, and, fondly prest,
Swear how I love thee dearly!
No vernal show'rs to buddin flow'rs,
Not Autumn to the Farmer,
So dear can be, as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely Charmer.