Classic Poem

O THE wee green neuk, the sly green neuk,
The wee sly neuk for me!
Whare the wheat is wavin' bright and brown,
And the wind is fresh and free;
Whare I weave wild weeds, and out o' reeds
Kerve whissles as I lay,
And a douce low voice is murmurin' by,
Through the lee-lang simmer day!

And whare a' things luik as though they lo'ed
To languish in the sun,
And that if they feed the fire they dree
They wadna ae pang were gone;
Whare the lift aboon is still as death,
And bright as life can be;
While the douce low voice says Na, na, na!
But ye mauna luik sae at me!

Whare the lang rank bent is saft and cule,
And freshenin' till the feet;
And the spot is sly, and the spinnie high,
Whare my luve and I mak seat;
And I tease her till she rins, and then
I catch her roun' the tree,
While the poppies shak' their heids and blush:
Let 'em blush till they drap, for me!

O the wee green neuk, the sly green neuk,
The wee sly neuk for me!
Whare the wheat is wavin' bright and brown,
And the wind is fresh and free!