The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,
Our lads gaeda-hunting aeday at the dawn,
O’er moors and o’er mosses and mony a glen,
At length they discover’d a bonie moor-hen.
Chorus.-I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men,
I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men;
Take some on the wing, and some as they spring,
But cannilysteal on a boniemoor-hen.
Sweet-brushing the dew from the brown heather bells
Her colours betray’d her on yonmossy fells;
Her plumage outlustr’d the pride o’ the spring
And O! as she wanton’d saegay on the wing.
I rede you, &c.
AuldPhoebus himself, as he peep’d o’er the hill,
In spite at her plumage he tried his skill;
He levell’d his rays where she bask’d on the brae-
His rays were outshone, and but mark’d where she lay.
I rede you,&c.
They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill,
The best of our lads wi’the best o’their skill;
Butstill as the fairest she sat in their sight,
Then, whirr! she was over, a mile at a flight.
I redeyou, &c.