So I'm aff and away to the muirs, mither, to hunt the deer, Ranging far frae frowning faces, and the douce folk here; Crawling up through burn and bracken, louping down the screes, Looking out frae craig and headland, drinking up the simmer breeze.

' 'Gae pull, gae pull the simmer leaves, And strew them saft o'er me; My token's tint, my love is fause, I'll lay me doon and dee.' 1847.