Song, Composed In Spring

Tune—"Jockey's Grey Breeks."

     Again rejoicing Nature sees
     Her robe assume its vernal hues:
     Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
     All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

     Chorus.—And maun I still on Menie doat,
     And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?
     For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,
     An' it winna let a body be.

     In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
     In vain to me the vi'lets spring;
     In vain to me in glen or shaw,
     The mavis and the lintwhite sing.
     And maun I still, &c.

     The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
     Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;
     But life to me's a weary dream,
     A dream of ane that never wauks.
     And maun I still, &c.

     The wanton coot the water skims,
     Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,
     The stately swan majestic swims,
     And ev'ry thing is blest but I.
     And maun I still, &c.

     The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,
     And o'er the moorlands whistles shill:
     Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,
     I meet him on the dewy hill.
     And maun I still, &c.

     And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,
     Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,
     And mounts and sings on flittering wings,
     A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.
     And maun I still, &c.

     Come winter, with thine angry howl,
     And raging, bend the naked tree;
     Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
     When nature all is sad like me!
     And maun I still, &c.