the bonie moor-hen（1/1）

the bonie moor-hen

the heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn,

our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn,

o'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen,

at length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen.

chorus.—i rede you, beware at the hunting, young men,

i rede you, beware at the hunting, young men;

take some on the wing, and some as they spring,

but cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen.

sweet—brushing the dew from the brown heather bells

her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells;

her plumage outlustr'd the pride o' the spring

and o! as she wanton'd sae gay on the wing.

i rede you, &c.

auld phoebus himself, as he peep'd o'er the hill,

in spite at her plumage he tried his skill;

he levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae—

his rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay.

i rede you,&c.

they hunted the valley, they hunted the hill,

the best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill;

but still as the fairest she sat in their sight,

then, whirr! she was over, a mile at a flight.

i rede you, &c.