Again rejoicing Nature sees
Her robe assume its vernal hues:
Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,
All freshly steep’d in morning dews.
Chorus.-And maun I still on Menie doat,
And bearthe scorn that’s in her e’e?
For it’s jet, jet black, an’ it’s like a hawk,
An’it winnalet a bodybe.
In vain to me the cowslips blaw,
In vain to me the vi’lets spring;
In vain to me in glen orshaw,
The mavisand the lintwhitesing.
And maun I still, &c.
The merry ploughboy cheers his team,
Wi’ joy the tentieseedsman stalks;
But life to me’s a weary dream,
A dream of anethat never wauks.
And maun I still, &c.
The wanton coot the water skims,
Amangthe reeds the ducklings cry,
The stately swan majestic swims,
And ev’ry thing is blest butI.
And maun I still, &c.
The sheep-herd steeks his fauldingslap,
And o’er the moorlands whistles shill:
Wi’wild, unequal, wand’ring step,
I meet him on the dewy hill.
And maun I still, &c.
And when the lark, ‘tween light and dark,
Blythe waukens bythe daisy’s side,
And mounts and sings on flitteringwings,
A woe-worn ghaistI hameward glide.
And maun I still, &c.
Come winter, with thine angry howl,
And raging, bend the naked tree;
Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,
When nature all is sad like me!
And maunI still, &c.