Fanny's awa' at the gowff rinnin' aboot wi' a bag o' sticks after a wee bit ba', and Sally and I are hame by oor lane.

Laith will the lassie be to weet her bonny shoon, but lang ere the play'll be ower she'll wat her hat aboon.
A gust o' win' is skirlin' the noo, and as we luik ower the faem, the haar is risin', weetin' the green swaird wi' misty shoo'rs.
Yestreen was a calm simmer gloamin', sae sweet an' bonnie that when the sun was sinkin' doon ower Pettybaw Sands we daundered ower the muir.
As we cam' through the scented birks, we saw a trottin' burnie wimplin' 'neath the white-blossomed slaes and hirplin' doon the hillside; an' while a herd-laddie lilted ower the fernie brae, a cushat cooed leesomely doon i' the dale.

We pit aff oor shoon, sae blithe were we, kilted oor coats a little aboon the knee, and paidilt i' the burn, gettin' geyan weet the while.

Then Sally pu'd the gowans wat wi' dew an' twined her bree wi' tasselled broom, while I had a wee crackie wi' Tibby Buchan, the flesher's dochter frae Auld Reekie.

Tibby's nae giglet gawky like the lave, ye ken,--she's a sonsie maid, as sweet as ony hinny pear, wi' her twa pawky een an' her cockernony snooded up fu' sleek.
We were unco gleg to win hame when a' this was dune, an' after steekin' the door, to sit an' birsle oor taes at the bit blaze.