Where a’ the sweets o’ spring and summer grow:
Between twa birks, out o’er a little linn
The water fa’s an’ mak’s a singin’ din;
A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass,
Kisses, wi’ easy whirls, the bordering grass.
We’ll end our washing while the morning’s cool.
And when the day grows het we’ll to the pool,
There wash oursels—it’s healthfu’ now in May,
And sweetly cauler on so warm a day.”
A pool in a burn among the Lowland hills could hardly be more naturally described.