Classic Poem

Will ye gang a weeding dear
I' the green and ju[i]cey year
Spare the ground larks twitchey nest
By the mothers bosom prest
Soft as is thy snowy breast
I' the May time O' the year

Like the red caps blushing head
Such thy cheeks on fields green bed
Cutting thistle frae the wheat
Or blushing on the dinner seat
And thy voice is full as sweet
There's music in thy very feet

Will ye gang a weeding dear
I' the green and juicey year
Will ye go a weeding wheat
Sit on the green dinner seat
Where the wild thyme smells sae sweet
Will ye gang a weeding dear

Heres the John go bed at noon
And a bit O' the old moon
As the sun to[o] early rose
Gilding where the thistle grows
And the rush fringed water flows
Will ye go a weedin[g] soon

When blebs O' dew as clear as pearls
On every prickle trembling swells
And the moon not faded quite
Hangs his half round i' the light
Will ye weed frae morn till night
One O' natures loveliest Girls