Robert Burns, 1787
The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,|
Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn,
O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen,
At length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen.
|: I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men, :|
Take some on the wing, and some as they spring,
But cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen.
2. Sweet-brushing the dew from the brown heather bells
3. Auld Phoebus himself, as he peep'd o'er the hill,|
In spite at her plumage he tried his skill;
He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae
His rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay.
4. They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill,
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