a rose-bud by my early walk

a rose-bud by my early walk,

adown a corn-enclosed bawk,

sae gently bent its thorny stalk,

all on a dewy morning.

ere twice the shades o' dawn are fled,

in a' its crimson glory spread,

and drooping rich the dewy head,

it scents the early morning.

within the bush her covert nest

a little linnet fondly prest;

the dew sat chilly on her breast,

sae early in the morning.