My Nanie’s Awa

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,
Butto 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 mindme o’ Nanie- and Nanie’s awa.

Thou lav’rock that springs fraethe dews of the lawn,
The shepherd to warn o’ the grey-breaking dawn,
And thou mellow mavisthat hails the night-fa’,
Give over for pity-my Nanie’s awa.

Come Autumn, saepensive, in yellow and grey,
And soothe me wi’tidings o’Nature’s decay:
The dark, dreary Winter, and wild-driving snaw
Alanecan delight me-now Nanie’s awa.