University of Virginia Library

SONG.

[Whan the rose bush, in the morning]

Whan the rose bush, in the morning,
Bloomed beside my father's ha',
I loved to see the tints adorning
Its breast, when it began to blaw;
But howling storms, its beauties scorning,
Swept o'er't—nae mair its charms I saw,
The garden now is clad wi' mourning;—
Sae Donald bloomed—and passed awa'!