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Rh Sipping sweets from ev'ry flower, Thou hast ne'er an idle hour: Full well thou murm'rest, busy Bee, Thy sweet Ode to Industry.

 

merry blue eyes, and with loose flowing hair, With fresh rosy cheeks, and her pretty feet bare, With a tatter'd straw bonnet, that loosely is tied, And a little rush basket that hangs at her side, Which she fills full with heather bells lilac and blue, And daisies and berries of many a hue, My sweet Highland lassie is singing as gay, As a little sky-lark at the break of the day.

My pretty young child, can I take you with me, My little pet servant and maiden to be, Away from this moorland, so dismal and drear, To be nurse to my own little baby and dear; To sing your nice songs, all so lively and gay, To my merry young folks at the time of their play? Oh, come, my sweet maiden, and do not say nay; Let us leave these bleak mountains, and hasten away. 