Outside the window, stanchion-barred,
A gean-tree's wavin',
Through the blue lift abune the yard
The sun gangs stavin'.

Saft frae the ancient steeple falls
The toon-bell's ringin',
In good men's gardens ower the walls
A bird is singin'.

My God! how simple life may be —
Tranquil, slow-glidin',
There where the folk are douce and free,
An' law-abidin'.

Oh! you that in the cauld tolbooth
Greet, broken-hearted,
What are ye done wi' your braw youth,
That's now departed?