The Sweet-Brere


I' the springs morning dews
I' the bud of the year
When their mates the birds choose
How I love the sweet-brere
A sweet bonny bush
How sweet it smells still
Where bows the green rush
And where swells the mole hill
O dear do I love thee the bonny sweet brere
As it scents the soft winds in the spring of the year


O the bonny sweet brere
That grows on the wild heath
That smells comeing near
As sweet as childs breath
O the green sweet brere bushes
With its pink blushing rose
The haunts o' song thrushes
At the days dewy close
In eve's dewy walk how I love the sweet brere
Perfuming the wild wood nine moons in the year


O the bonny sweet brere
To walk there with a lover
To kiss her when near
Is sweetness all over
'Tis as sweet as true love
And as beauty's smile dear
When the dews from above
Bends the bonny sweet brere
On the furze clad heath how I love the sweet brere
And the bonny speck'ld thrush in this youth of the year.
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