CA' the yowes to the knowes,
   Ca' them where the heather grows,
   Ca' them where the burnie rows,
   My bonnie dearie.

Hark! the mavis' evening sang
Sounding Clouden's woods amang,
Then a-faulding let us gang,
   My bonnie dearie.

We'll gae down by Clouden side,
Through the hazels spreading wide,
O'er the waves that sweetly glide
   To the moon sae clearly.

Yonder Clouden's silent towers,
Where at moonshine midnight hours
O'er the dewy bending flowers
   Fairies dance sae cheery.

Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;
Thou'rt to Love and Heaven sae dear,
Nocht of ill may come thee near,
   My bonnie dearie.

Fair and lovely as thou art,
Thou hast stown my very heart;
I can die--but canna part,
   My bonnie dearie.

While waters wimple to the sea;
While day blinks in the lift sae hie;
Till clay-cauld death shall blin' my e'e,
   Ye shall be my dearie.

   Ca' the yowes to the knowes...

Robert Burns

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hark-the-mavis/