Robert Burns

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!

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

Affliction's sons are brothers in distress;
A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss!

Then horn for horn they stretch and strive;
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive.

Then horn for horn they stretch and strive;
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive.

Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
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Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye,
She draigl't a' her petticoatie,
Comin' through the rye
. . . .
Gin a body meet a body
Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body
Need a body cry?

Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
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Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea.