A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk 

Words by Robert Burns

A rose-bud, by my early walk 

Adown a corn-enclosèd 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. 

She soon shall see her tender brood, 

The pride, the pleasure o' the wood, 

Amang the fresh green leaves bedew'd, 

Awauk the early morning.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair, 

On trembling string or vocal air, 

Shall sweetly pay the tender care 

That tents thy early morning! 

So thou, sweet rose-bud, young and gay, 

Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day, 

And bless the parent's evening ray 

That watch'd thy early morning!

PLUS THE BONUS

-o0o-