The Braes o’ Gleniffer

Keen blaws the win’ o’er the braes o’ Gleniffer, 0.5The auld catle turrets are cover’d wi’ naw, How chang’d froe the time when I met wi’ my lover, Amang the broom buhes by Stanely green haw. The wild flow’rs o’ immer were pread a’ ae bonnie, The mavis ang weet 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 blythome an’ cheery, Then ilk thing around us was bonny an’ braw; Now naething is heard but the wind, whitling dreary, An’ naething is een but the wide-preading naw: 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, eeming wae for my Johnnie, ’Tis winter wi’ them, an’ ’tis winter wi’ me.

Yon cauld leety cloud kiffs alang the bleak mountain, An’ hakes the dark firs on the tay rocky brae, While down the deep glen bawls the naw-flooded fountain, That murmur’d ae weet to my laddie an’ me: It’s no its loud roar on the wintry win’ wellin’, It’s no the cauld blat brings the tears i’ my e’e, For, O gin I aw but my bonny Scots callan, The dark days o’ winter war’ immer to me!