Robert Burns

What's a' your jargon o' your schools,
Your Latin names for horns and stools;
If honest nature read more

What's a' your jargon o' your schools,
Your Latin names for horns and stools;
If honest nature made you fools.

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.

Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
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Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea;
Ye stately foxgloves fair to see!
Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie
In scented bowers!
Ye roses on your thorny tree
The first o' flow'rs.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar,
Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.

His locked, lettered, braw brass collar,
Shewed him the gentleman and scholar.

The landlady and Tam grew gracious
Wi' favours secret, sweet and precious.

The landlady and Tam grew gracious
Wi' favours secret, sweet and precious.