NOW in her green mantle blythe Nature arrays,
And listens the lambkins that bleat oer her braes;
While birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
But to me its delightlessmy Nanies awa.
The snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
And violetes bathe in the weet o the morn;
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
They mind me o Nanieand Nanies awa.
Thou lavrock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa,
Give over for pitymy Nanies awa.
Come Autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi tidings o Natures decay:
The dark, dreary Winter, and wild-driving snaw
Alane can delight menow Nanies awa.