51�Թ�

Those birken trees, how they perfume the summer air around us!

Fare thee well, my native cot, Bothy of the birken tree!

Oh, wad that my time were ower but,   Wi’ this wintry sleet and snaw, That I might see our house again   I’ the bonny birken shaw!—

Sweet, oh, sweet! with Mary o'er the wilds to stray, When Glensmole is dress'd in all the pride of May; And, when weary roving through the greenwood glade, Softly to recline beneath the birken shade.

The broom, the brier, the birken bush, Bloom bonny o'er thy flowery lea, And a' the sweets that ane can wish Frae Nature's hand, are strew'd on thee.