The wee freckled cluds ower the blue lift are roamin',
The waves ripple light ower the sea,
And the pearly mantle o' dark grey gloamin'
Fa's silkenly saft around me;
And wow but my heart dances boundin' and licht,
And my bosom beats blythesome and cheery,
When I see the black locks o' the pawky-ee'd nicht,
That sae kindly hap me an' my dearie.

Your birdies an' bardies may warble and sing,
And praise the bricht glories o' day,
But lovers, true lovers, can do nae sic thing,
For they weary till daylicht's away;
Then in the lone glen, whaur there's naething to start,
Oh, 'tis sweet when there's naebody near ye,
An' naething is heard but the beat o' your heart,
Echoed back by the heart o' your dearie.

O love! thou canst licht up the darkness o' nicht,
Thou canst brichten the mirkest hour;
And the heaven o' bliss, in a stown modest kiss,
Brings sunshine when dark shadows lower.
Then let him wha complains o' life's troubles and pains,
And feels himsel' dowie an' eerie,
Gae doun the lane glen, and let naebody ken
But himsel' an' his ain lovin' dearie!