and when the wee simmer shower
has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower,
we'll to the breathing woodbine bower,
at sultry noon, my dearie, o.
lassie wi' the, &c.
when cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
the weary shearer's hameward way,
thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
and talk o' love, my dearie, o.
lassie wi' the, &c.
and when the howling wintry blast
disturbs my lassie's midnight rest,
enclasped to my faithfu' breast,
i'llfort thee, my dearie, o.
lassie wi' the, &c.