As songsters of the early year
Are ilka day mair sweet to hear,
So ilka day to me mair dear
And charming is my Philly.
SHE.
As on the brier the budding rose
Still richer breathes and fairer blows,
So in my tender bosom grows
The love I bear my Willy.
HE.
The milder sun and bluer sky
That crown my harvest cares wi’ joy,
Were ne’er sae welcome to my eye
As is a sight o’ Philly.
SHE.
The little swallow’s wanton wing,
Tho’ wafting o’er the flowery spring,
Did ne’er to me sic tidings bring,
As meeting o’ my Willy.
HE.
The bee that thro’ the sunny hour
Sips nectar in the opening flower,
Compar’d wi’ my delight is poor,
Upon the lips o’ Philly.
SHE.