Classic Poem

An' hae ye heard the bonnie birds,
That sing sae sweet i' the birken shaw?
O ye may tell o' your nightingales, —
Thae bonnie birds outsing them a'.
An' ye may tell o' the minstrels too,
Wha tune their harps in bower an' ha', —
I better loe the bonnie birds,
That sing sae sweet i' the birken shaw.

Nae cushat ever safter croods,
Amang the woods, her dyin' fa',
Nae lav'rock louder lilts at morn,
When mountin' high to heaven's ha'.
Nae gloamin win' aye sighs sae low
'Mang autumn leaves in birken shaw;
Nae pibroch 'mang the mountains rings
Wi' fu'er swell its gatherin' ca'.

An' wha can be the bonnie birds,
That sing sae sweet i' the birken shaw?
Twa bonnie lasses be thae birds,
An' they might sing in palace ha';
Ae bonnie lassie sings sae sweet,
Ye feel the tears unbidden fa';
But tither starts ye to your feet,
An' stirs ye high, she sings sae braw.