O May thy morn
O May thy morn was ne’er sae sweet,
As the mirk night o’ December;
For sparkling was the rosy wine,
And private was the chamber:
And dear was she, I dare na name,
But I will ay remember.
And dear was she, I dare na name,
But I will ay remember.
And here’s to them, that, like oursel,
Can push about the jorum;
And here’s to them that wish us weel,
May a’ that’s gude watch o’er them:
And here’s to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o’ the quorum.
And here’s to them, we dare na tell,
The dearest o’ the quorum.
