Robert Dinsmoor (1757–1836)

KEEN blaws the wind o’er the braes o’ Glenniffer,

The auld castle turrets are cover’d wi’ snaw!

How changed sin’ the time that I met wi’ my lover,

Amang the green bushes by Stantley green shaw!

The wild flowers o’ simmer were springing sae bonny,

The mavis sang sweet frae the green birken tree!

But far to the camp they hae march’d my dear Jonnie,

An’ now it is winter wi’ nature an’ me.

Then ilk thing around us was blithsome an’ cheerie,

Then ilk thing around us was bonnie an’ braw;

Now naething is heard but the wind whistling dreary,

Now naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw.

The trees are a’ bare, an’ the birds mute an’ dowie,

They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee;

They chirp out their plaints seeming wae for my Jonnie,

’T is winter wi’ them, an’ its winter wi’ me.

Yon cauld sleety cloud as it skiffs the bleak mountain,

An’ shakes the dark firs on its stey rocky brae,

While down the deep glen bawls the snaw-flooded fountain,

That murmur’d sae sweet to my laddie an’ me.

’T is na the loud roar o’ the wintry wind swallowin,

’Tis na the cauld blast brings the tear i’ my e’e;

For O gin I saw but my bonnie Scot’s callan.

The dark days o’ winter were simmer to me.