4
How chang’d froe the time when I met wi’ my lover,
Amang the broom buſhes by Stanely green ſhaw.
The wild flow’rs o’ ſimmer were ſpread a’ ſae bonnie,
The mavis ſang ſweet frae the green birken tree,
But far to the camp they hae march’d my dear Johnnie
An’ now it is winter wi’ nature an’ me.
Then ilk thing around us was blythſome an’ cheery,
Then ilk thing around us was bonny an’ braw;
Now naething is heard but the wind, whiſtling dreary,
An’ naething is ſeen but the wide-ſpreading ſnaw:
The trees are a’ bare, an’ the birds mute an’ dowie,
They shake the cald drift frae their wings as they flee,
An’ chirp out their plaints, ſeeming wae for my Johnnie,
’Tis winter wi’ them, an’ ’tis winter wi’ me.
Yon cauld ſleety cloud ſkiffs alang the bleak mountain,
An’ ſhakes the dark firs on the ſtay rocky brae,
