Page:Todlen hame.pdf/5

 By the silence of the owl,

By the chirping on the thorn,

By the butts thas empty roll,

We foretel the approach of morn.

Fill, then, fill the vacant glass,

Let no precious moment slip;

Flout the moralizing ass,

Joys find entrance by the lip.

Hae ye seen in the calm dewy morning,

The red-breast wild warbling sae clear

Or the low dwelling, snow breasted gowan,

Sur-charged wi' mild e'ering's soft tear,

O then ye hae seen my dear lassie,

The lassie I loe best of a'.

But far frae the hame o' my lassie,

I'm monie a lang mile awa.

Her hair is she wing o’ the blackbird,

Her eye is the eye o' the dove,

Her lips are the red blushing rose-bud,

Her bosom's the palace of love.

Tho' green be thy banks O sweet Clutha,

Thy beauties ne'er charm me ava,

Forgive me, ye maid of sweet Clutha,

My heart is wi' her that's awa.