Classic Poem

At morn when I'm dressing, My mood is distressing,
Unlike my old feeling In the sheiling o' the glen;
Since I've come here awa' Song I can't bear ava',
Nor less do I hate Lowland prate o' the men.
How can I be jolly, And my heart elsewhere wholly,
Having only a part Of my heart where I range?
In the Highland hills' shade Is the rest—I don't hide—
I'm disgusted to see What's to me in exchange.

Oft have I strayed with thee, Fair maid of jollity,
In leaf-laden bowers And on flowers dew-bent
In the straths and the dells Where the merle's note swells
On the field of the gowan Grass-grown with sweet scent,
The high tops ascending, The cattle attending,
At the hill haugh arriving Them driving in May,
Guileless the lay Of my innocent fay there,
Glad was I to hear there My dear say her say.