Robert Tannahill (1774–1810)

THE MIDGES dance aboon the burn;

The dews begin to fa’;

The pairtricks doun the rushy holm

Set up their e’ening ca’.

Now loud and clear the blackbird’s sang

Rings through the briery shaw,

While flitting gay, the swallows play

Around the castle wa’.

Beneath the golden gloaming sky

The mavis mends her lay;

The redbreast pours his sweetest strains

To charm the ling’ring day;

While weary yeldrins seem to wail

Their little nestlings torn,

The merry wren, frae den to den,

Gaes jinkling through the thorn.

The roses fauld their silken leaves,

The foxglove shuts its bell;

The honeysuckle and the birk

Spread fragrance through the dell.

Let ithers crowd the giddy court

Of mirth and revelry,

The simple joys that Nature yields

Are dearer far to me.