Oh, forth she went like a braw, braw bride <br />To meet her winsome groom, <br />When she was aware of twa bonny birds <br />Sat biggin' in the broom. <br /> <br />The tane it built with the green, green moss, <br />But and the bents sae fine, <br />And the tither wi' a lock o' lady's hair <br />Linked up wi' siller twine. <br /> <br />'O whaur gat ye the green, green moss, <br />O whaur the bents sae fine? <br />And whaur gat ye the bonny broun hair <br />That ance was tress o' mine?' <br /> <br />'We gat the moss fra' the elditch aile, <br />The bents fra' the whinny muir, <br />And a fause knight threw us the bonny broun hair, <br />To please his braw new fere.' <br /> <br />'Gae pull, gae pull the simmer leaves, <br />And strew them saft o'er me; <br />My token's tint, my love is fause, <br />I'll lay me doon and dee.' <br /> <br /> <br />1847.<br /><br />Charles Kingsley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scotch-song/
