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The Ettin o' Sillarwood.
'O, Sillarwood! sweet Sillarwood,
Gin Sillarwood were mine,
I'd big a bouir in Sillarwood
And theik it ower wi' thyme;
At ilka door, and ilka bore,
The red, red rose, wud shine!'
It's up and sang the bonnie bird,
Upon her milk-white hand—
'I wudna lig in Sillarwood,
For all a gude Earl's land;
I wudna sing in Sillarwood,
Tho' gowden glist ilk wand!
'The wild boar rakes in Sillarwood,
The buck drives thro' the shaw,
And simmer woos the Southern wind
Thro' Sillarwood to blaw.
