Robert Tannahill (1774–1810)

THOU bonny wood of Craigie Lea!

Thou bonny wood of Craigie Lea!

Near thee I pass’d life’s early day,

And won my Mary’s heart in thee.

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.

Far ben thy dark green plantain’s shade

The cushat croodles am’rously,

The mavis, down thy bughted glade,

Gars echo ring frae every tree.

Awa’, ye thoughtless, murd’ring gang,

Wha tear the nestlings ere they flee!

They’ll sing you yet a canty sang,

Then, O! in pity, let them be!

When winter blaws in sleety showers

Frae aff the Norlan’ hills sae hie,

He lightly skiffs thy bonny bowers,

As laith to harm a flower in thee.

Though Fate should drag me south the line,

Or o’er the wide Atlantic sea;

The happy hours I’ll ever min’

That I, in youth, hae spent in thee.