O mavis singin' in the wood,
When a' the hills are white wi' snaw;
O mavis singin' in the wood,
Though cauld win's wither as they blaw,
I dinna see on hedge or tree
A single bud to herald spring,
Nor fin' the Wast win' touch my cheek,
An' yet ye sing, an' yet ye sing.
O mavis liltin' in the wood,
Ye sing frae where I canna see,
Yet ilka note that swells thy throat
Brings simmer nearer unto me.
The sunshine sweetens roun' the cloud,
The gowans wauken at my feet,
The win' turns round frae East to Wast,
Ye sing sae sweet, ye sing sae sweet.