“ I'll lead thee to the birken bower, on yon burn side,
Sae sweetly wove wi' woodbine flower, on yon burn side—
⁠There the busy prying eye
⁠Ne'er disturbs the lover's joy,
While in ither's arms they lie, down by yon burn side. ”

“ And naething is seen but the wide spreading snaw.
The trees are a’ bare, and the birds mute and dowie,
They shake the cauld drift frae their wings as they flee,
And chirp out their plaints, seeming wae for my Johnnie—
'Tis winter wi’ them, and 'tis winter wi' me. ”

“ When Paradise our friends did tyne,
Because something ran in their min',
Forbid, like Highland whisky, O.
Come a' ye powers o' Music, come!
I find my heart grows unco glum,
My fiddle-strings will not play bum,
To say fareweel to whisky, O.
I'll tak my fiddle in my hand,
And screw the strings up while the'll stand,
To mak a lamentation grand.
On good auld Highland whisky, O.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. ”