Ye’ve left the sun an the canle-licht an the starlicht 
The woods baith green an sere, 
And yet I hear ye singin doon the braes 
I’ the licht nichts o the year. 

Ye were sae glad; ye were ae sae like the laverock 
Wha’s hert is i the lift 
Nae mair for ye the young green leaves will dance 
Nor yet the auld anes drift. 

What thocht had you o the ill-faured dairk o winter 
But the ingle-nooks o hame?
Love lit yer way an played aboot yer feet 
Year in, year oot, the same. 

And noo my best, my bonniest and my dearest, 
I’ll lay ma hert tae sleep 
And let the warld, that has nae soonds for me, 
Its watch o silence keep. 

But, whiles an whiles, i the canle-licht an the starlicht 
I’ll wauken it to hear 
The liltin voice that’s singin doon the braes 
I’ the licht nichts o the year.