And when the welcome simmer-shower
Has cheer'd ilk drooping little flower, every
We'll to the breathing woodbine bower
At sultry noon, my dearie, O.
When Cynthia lights, wi' silver ray,
The weary shearer's hameward way. reaper's
Thro' yellow waving fields we'll stray,
And talk o' love, my dearie, O.
And when the howling wintry blast