The Ingle-Side

Hew Ainslie (1792–1878)

IT ’S rare to see the morning bleeze

Like a bonfire frae the sea,

It ’s fair to see the burnie kiss

The lip o’ the flow’ry lea;

An’ fine it is on green hillside,

Where hums the bonnie bee,

But rarer, fairer, finer far

Is the Ingle-side for me.

Glens may be gilt wi’ gowans rare,

The birds may fill the tree;

And haughs hae a’ the scented ware

That simmer-growth can gie:

But the canty hearth where cronies meet,

An’ the darling o’ our e’e,

That makes to us a warl’ complete:

O, the Ingle-side for me!