Beauty's Of A Fading Nature. Has A

Oh My Luve's Like A Red, Red Rose, That's Newly Sprung In June; Oh My Luve's Like The Melodie That's Sweetly Played In Tune.

Chords That Vibrate Sweetest Pleasure Thrill The Deepest Notes Of Woe.

Again Rejoicing Nature Sees Her Robe Assume Its Vernal Hues Her Leafy Locks Wave In The Breeze, All Freshly Steep'd In The Morning Dews.

Gars Auld Claes Look Amaist As Weel's The New.

And Let Us Mind, Faint Heart Ne'er Wan A Lady Fair. Wha Does The Utmost That He Can Will Whyles Do Mair.