Oh! welcome the genial voice o' young May,
When lilting amang the woods cheery and gay,
While boughs rustle gently and leaves flutter free,
How sweet is the sough o' the whistlewood tree.
Oh! sweet, &c.

Oh! welcome the saft southland breezes that blaw,
Awaking the bellflowers in greenwood and shaw,
While a' the wee birds nestlin' lown on the lee,
Wi' joy hail the sough o' the whistlewood tree.
Wi' joy, &c.

Sweet simmer's been sigh'd for in valley and plain,
As I sigh for Sandy, when Sandy is gane;
But Sandy an' simmer come linkin' in glee,
Sae welcome the sough o' the whistlewood tree.
Oh! welcome, &c.

There's music without, when there's feeling within,
The sweet chords o' nature mak a' nature kin;
The lark's hame is laigh, tho' he sings far on hie,
Frae heaven's the sough o' the whistlewood tree.
Frae heaven, &c.