my nanie's awa
tuhere'll never be peace till jamie es hame.”
now in her green mantle blythe nature arrays,
and listens the mbkins that bleat o'er her braes;
while birds warble weles in ilka green shaw,
but to me it's delightless—my nanie's awa.
the sna and primrose our woodnds adorn,
and violetes bathe in the weet o' the morn;
they pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they bw,
they mind me o' nanie—and nanie's awa.
thou v'rock that springs frae the dews of the wn,
the shepherd to warn o' the grey-breaking dawn,
and thou mellow mavis that hails the night-fa',
give over for pity—my nanie's awa.
e autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and grey,
and soothe me wi' tidings o' nature's decay:
the dark, dreary winter, and wild-driving snaw
ane delight me—now nanie's awa.