The Sun has taen his fareweel blink;
The ploughman quits his usefu' toil;
Come, Jean, let's leave the noisy town,
And watch dame nature's evening smile:
Wi' health we'll sport on Eden's banks,
In love, like our first parents, blest;
For dearer is my Jean to me,
Than a' the walth o' east or west!

The linnet lo'es the whiten'd thorn;
The thrush sings frae the willow tree;
The lark has sought the rising corn;
And hameward winds the busy bee:
The scaly tribe, in stream or pool,
Feed fearless o' their artfu' foe;
These trembling shun the haunts o' man,
And live by nature's simple law.

The darkning dells, the fading fells,
The bleating flocks, the ruddy farm,
The tinkling streams, the gentle gales,
Let these thy youthfu' fancy charm;
And think how soon stern Winter's frown
Will strip the meadow, bank, and tree;
The present hours are only ours,
Then share these rural joys wi' me!

Far frae the town, and a' its cares,
The shafts o' slander we'll defy;
Dear virtuous love shall be our theme,
That ay delighteth thee and I:
And as we pass some lowly shed,
And mark a cheerfu' rustic scene,
Oft will I wish that cot were mine,
Wou'd'st thou but share it wi' me, Jean!

We'll stray unseen by tell--tale een,
And trace the glen, and silent grove;
Whilst high abuin, the silver muin
Shall witness be to my fond love:
Then taste o' pleasure, in thy prime,
Youth quickly flies, ne'er to return;
And when age wrinkles thy sweet face,
Think, wi' a smile, o' life's fair morn!