M N A（1 / 1）

y nanie&039;s awa

tune—“there&039;ll never be peace till jaie es ha”

now her green antle blythe nature arrays,

and listens the bks that bleat o&039;er her braes;

while birds warble weles ilka green shaw,

but to it&039;s delightless—y nanie&039;s awa

the snawdrap and prirose our woodnds adorn,

and violetes bathe the weet o&039; the orn;

they pa y sad bo, sae sweetly they bw,

they d o&039; nanie—and nanie&039;s awa

thou v&039;rock that sprgs frae the dews of the wn,

the shepherd to warn o&039; the grey-breakg dawn,

and thou llow avis that hails the night-fa&039;,

give over for pity—y nanie&039;s awa

e autun, sae pensive, yellow and grey,

and othe wi&039; tidgs o&039; nature&039;s decay:

the dark, dreary ter, and wild-drivg snaw

ane can delight —now nanie&039;s awa