Page:Sae will we yet (2).pdf/8

 I’ve seen the morning with gold the hills adorning,
 * And loud tempest storming before the midday;

I’ve seen Tweed’s silver streams, shining in the sunny beams,
 * Grow drumlie and dark as they roll’d on their way.

O fickle fortune! why this cruel sporting,
 * O why still perplex us poor sons of a a day.

Nae mair your smiles can cheer me, nae mair your frowns can fear me,
 * For the flow’rs of the forest are wither’d away.