WHEN rosy May comes in wi flowers,
To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers,
Then busy, busy are his hours,
The Gardner wi his paidle.
The crystal waters gently fa,
The merry bards are lovers a,
The scented breezes round him blaw
The Gardner wi his paidle.
When purple morning starts the hare
To steal upon her early fare;
Then thro the dews he maun repair
The Gardner wi his paidle.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o Natures rest,
He flies to her arms he loes the best,
The Gardner wi his paidle.