Not vernal show'rs to budding flow'rs

Not Autumn to the Farmer,

So dear can be as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely Charmer!

BEHIND yon hills where Stinchar flows,

'Mang moors an' moffes many, 0, The wintry fun the day has clos'd, And I'll awa to Nanie, O.

II.

The westlin wind blaws loud an' fhill;

The night's baith mirk and rainy, O; But I'll get my plaid an' out I'll steal,

An' owre the hill to Nanie, O.

III.

III.

My Nanie's charming, fweet an' young;
Nae artfu' wiles to win ye, 0:

May ill befa' the flattering tongue d
That wad beguile my Nanie, O...

Her face is fair, her heart is true,
As spotless as she's bonnie, O;
The op'ning gowan, wat wi' dew,
Nae purer is than Nanie, O.

A country lad is my degree,

An' few there be that ken me, O;

But

But what care I how few they be,

I'm welcome ay to Nanie, O.

VI.

My riches a's my penny-fee,
An' I maun guide it cannie, O;
But warl's gear ne'er troubles me,
My thoughts are a', my Nanie, O.

VII.

Our auld Guidman delights to view

His fheep an' kye thrive bonnie, O; But I'm as blythe that hauds his pleugh, An' has nae care but Nanie, O.

VIII.

VIII.

Come weel come woe, I care na by,

I'll tak what Heav'n will fen' me, O; Nae ither care in life have I,

But live, an' love my Nanie, O.

GREEN