THE FIELD BY THE LIRK O’ THE HILL

Daytime an’ nicht,

Sun, wind an’ rain;

The lang, cauld licht

O’ the spring months again.

The yaird's a’ weed,

An’ the fairm's a’ still —

Wha'll sow the seed

I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill?

Prood maun ye lie,

Prood did ye gang;

Auld, auld am I,

But O! life's lang!

Gaists i’ the air,

Whaups cryin’ shrill,

An’ you nae mair

I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill —

Aye, bairn, nae mair, nae mair,

I’ the field by the lirk o’ the hill!