Robert Burns

Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the read more

Now blooms the lily by the bank,
The primrose down the brae;
The hawthorn's budding in the glen,
The milkwhite is the slae.

Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert read more

Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert were a paradise
If thou wert there, if thou were there.

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!

Yon rose-buds in the morning-dew,
How pure amang the leaves sae green!

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith
Wi' rattling an' thumpin'!
Now meekly calm, now wild read more

Hear how he clears the points o' Faith
Wi' rattling an' thumpin'!
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath,
He's stampin', and he's jumpin'!

There's some are fou o' love divine,
There's some are fou' o' brandy.

There's some are fou o' love divine,
There's some are fou' o' brandy.