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