Robert Burns (1759–1796). Poems and Songs.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14. |
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| 158. Song—The Bonie Moor-hen |
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| THE HEATHER was blooming, the meadows were mawn, | |
| Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, | |
| O’er moors and o’er mosses and mony a glen, | |
| At length they discover’d a bonie moor-hen. | |
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| Chorus.—I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men, | 5 |
| I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men; | |
| Take some on the wing, and some as they spring, | |
| But cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen. | |
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| Sweet-brushing the dew from the brown heather bells | |
| Her colours betray’d her on yon mossy fells; | 10 |
| Her plumage outlustr’d the pride o’ the spring | |
| And O! as she wanton’d sae gay on the wing. | |
| I rede you, &c. | |
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| Auld Phoebus himself, as he peep’d o’er the hill, | |
| In spite at her plumage he tried his skill; | 15 |
| He levell’d his rays where she bask’d on the brae— | |
| His rays were outshone, and but mark’d where she lay. | |
| I rede you,&c. | |
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| They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill, | |
| The best of our lads wi’ the best o’ their skill; | 20 |
| But still as the fairest she sat in their sight, | |
| Then, whirr! she was over, a mile at a flight. | |
I rede you, &c.
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