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　　Song, Composed In Spring

　　Tune—“Jockey's Grey Breeks.”

　　Again rejoicing Nature sees

　　Her robe assume its vernal hues:

　　Her leafy locks wave in the breeze,

　　All freshly steep'd in morning dews.

　　Chorus.—And maun I still on Menie doat,

　　And bear the scorn that's in her e'e?

　　For it's jet, jet black, an' it's like a hawk,

　　An' it winna let a body be.

　　In vain to me the cowslips blaw,

　　In vain to me the vi'lets spring;

　　In vain to me in glen or shaw,

　　The mavis and the lintwhite sing.

　　And maun I still, &c.

　　The merry ploughboy cheers his team,

　　Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks;

　　But life to me's a weary dream,

　　A dream of ane that never wauks.

　　And maun I still, &c.

　　The wanton coot the water skims,

　　Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,

　　The stately swan majestic swims,

　　And ev'ry thing is blest but I.

　　And maun I still, &c.

　　The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,

　　And o'er the moorlands whistles shill:

　　Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step,

　　I meet him on the dewy hill.

　　And maun I still, &c.

　　And when the lark, 'tween light and dark,

　　Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,

　　And mounts and sings on flittering wings,

　　A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide.

　　And maun I still, &c.

　　Come winter, with thine angry howl,

　　And raging, bend the naked tree;

　　Thy gloom will soothe my cheerless soul,

　　When nature all is sad like me!

　　And maun I still, &c. Poems and Songs of Robert Burns