Sipping sweets from ev'ry flower,
Thou hast ne'er an idle hour:
Full well thou murm'rest, busy Bee,
Thy sweet Ode to Industry.
5. The Highland Lassie.
With merry blue eyes, and with loose flowing hair,
With fresh rosy cheeks, and her pretty feet bare,
With a tatter'd straw bonnet, that loosely is tied,
And a little rush basket that hangs at her side,
Which she fills full with heather bells lilac and blue,
And daisies and berries of many a hue,
My sweet Highland lassie is singing as gay,
As a little sky-lark at the break of the day.
My pretty young child, can I take you with me,
My little pet servant and maiden to be,
Away from this moorland, so dismal and drear,
To be nurse to my own little baby and dear;
To sing your nice songs, all so lively and gay,
To my merry young folks at the time of their play?
Oh, come, my sweet maiden, and do not say nay;
Let us leave these bleak mountains, and hasten away.
