The ewe-buchtin’s bonnie, baith e’enin’ and morn,
When owr blithe shepherds play on the bog-reed and horn;
While we’re milking, they’re lilting, baith pleasant and clear;
But my heart’s fit to break when I think on my dear.
O the shepherds take pleasure to blow on the horn,
To raise up their flocks o’ sheep soon in the morn;
On the bonnie green banks they feed pleasand and free,
But alas, my dear heart, all my sighing’s for thee!