Page:Lament for Abercrombie.pdf/7

 When winter blaws in sleety show'rs,
 * Frae aff the norlan hills sae hie,

He lightly skiffs the bonny bow'rs,
 * As laith to harm a flow'r in thee.
 * Thou bonnie wood,

Tho' fate should drag me across the line,
 * Or o'er the wild atlantic sea,

The happy hours I'll ever mind
 * That I in youth had spent in thee.


 * Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea,
 * Thou bonny wood of Craigie lea,
 * Near thee I pass'd life's early day,
 * And won my Mary's heart in thee.

Let drunkards sing in praise o' wine.
 * Their midnight balls and social glee,

But Scotia's sons may fidge fu' fain,
 * While they hae routh o' barley bree.

French brandy is but trash, (shame fa't!
 * Their foreign rum I downa pree;

Give me the sterling pith o' mau',
 * Aboon them a' it bears the gree.