THE WEE FLOWER OF THE HEATHER.
Thou pretty wee flower, humble thing,
Thou brightest jewel of the heath,
Which waves at zephyr's lightest wing,
And trembles at the softest breath;
Thou brightest jewel of the heath,
Which waves at zephyr's lightest wing,
And trembles at the softest breath;
Thou lovely bud of Scotia's land,
Thou pretty fragrant burnie gem,
By whispering breezes thou art fanned,
And greenest leaves entwine thy stem.
Thou pretty fragrant burnie gem,
By whispering breezes thou art fanned,
And greenest leaves entwine thy stem.
No raging tempest beats thee down,
Or finds thee in thy safe retreat;
By no rough wintry winds thou'rt blown,
Safe seated at the dark rock's feet.
Or finds thee in thy safe retreat;
By no rough wintry winds thou'rt blown,
Safe seated at the dark rock's feet.
