Dennistoun Online: Scottish+Nursery+Songs


Tho weel I loe the budding spring,
   I’ll no misca’ John Frost,
Nor will I roose the summer days
   At gowden autum’s
For a
’ the seasons in their turn
wished-for pleasures bring,
And hand in hand they jink aboot,
   Like weans at jingo-ring.

Fu’ weel I mind how aft ye said,
   When winter nights were lang,
“I weary for the summer woods,
   The lintie’s tittering sang;
But when the woods grew gay and green,
   And birds sang sweet and clear,
It then was, “When will hairst-time come,
   The gloaming o’ the year?

Oh! hairst time’s like a lipping cup
   That’s gi’en wi’ furthy glee!
The fields are fu’ o’ yellow corn,
   Red apples bend the tree;
The genty air, sae ladylike!
   Has on a scented gown,
And wi’ an airy string she leads
   The thistle-seed balloon.

The yellow corn will porridge mak’,
   The apples taste your mou’,
And ower the stibble riggs I’ll chase
   The thistle-down wi’ you;
I’ll pu’ the haw frae aff the thorn,
   The red hip frae the brier——
For wealth hangs in each tangled nook
   In the gloaming o’ the year.

Sweet Hope! ye biggit ha’e a nest
   Within my bairnie’s breast—
Oh may his trusting heart ne’er trow
   That whiles ye sing in jest;
Some coming joys are dancing aye
   Before his langing een,—
He sees the flower that isna blawn,
   And birds that ne’er were seen;—

The stibble rigg is aye ahin’!
   The gowden grain afore,
And apples drop into his lap,
   Or row in at the door!
Come, hairst-time, then, unto my bairn,
   Drest in your gayest gear,
Wi’ saft and winnowing win’s to cool
   The gloaming o’ the year!

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