my nanie's awa
    tune—“there'll never be peace till jamie comes hame.”
    now in her green mantle blythe nature arrays,
    and listens the lambkins that bleat o'er her braes;
    while birds warble welcomes in ilka green shaw,
    but to me it's delightless—my nanie's awa.
    the snawdrap and primrose our woodlands adorn,
    and violetes bathe in the weet o' the morn;
    they pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw,
    they mind me o' nanie—and nanie's awa.
    thou lav'rock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,
    the shepherd to warn o' the greybreaking dawn,
    and thou mellow mavis that hails the nightfa',
    give over for pity—my nanie's awa.
    come autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
    and soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay:
    the dark, dreary winter, and wilddriving snaw
    alane can delight me—now nanie's awa.