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The little birdies blythely sing,
While o'er their heads the hazels hing,
Or lightly flit on wanton wing,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.
The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foamy stream deep-roaring fa's,
O'erhung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldy.
The hoary cliffs are erown'd wi' flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldy.
Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish free me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee,
In the birks of Aberfeldy.
The Boatic Rows.
O weel may the boatie row,
And better may she speed,
And liesome may the boatie row,
That wins the bairns' bread.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows,
The boatie rows indeed;
And weel may the boatie row,
That wins my bairns' bread.
