Leader-haughs and Yarow.  
To its own proper Tune.  

WHen Phoebus bright the Azure Skies  
with golden rays enlighteneth,  
These things sublunar he espics,  
herbs, trees, and plants he quick'neth:  
Among all those he makes his choice,  
and gladly goes he thorough,  
With radiant beams, and silver streams,  
through Leader-Haughs and Yarow.   

When Aries the day and night  
in equal length divideth,  
Old frosty Saturn takes the flight  
no longer he abideth:  
Then Flora Queen, with Mantle green,  
casts off her deadly sorrow,  
And vows to dwell with Ceres sell  
in Leader-Haughs and Yarrow.   

Pan playing with his Oaten ●eed,  
with shepherds him attending,  
Doth here resort their flocks to feed,  
the hills and haughs commending;  
With bottle, bag, and staff with knag,  
and all singing good morrow;  
They swear no fields more pleasure yields  
than Leader-haughs and Yarrow.   

One house there stands on Leader side,  
surmounting my descryving,  
With ease-rooms rare, and windows fair,  
like Daedalus contriving:  
Men passing by, do often say,  
in south it hath no marrow;  
It stands as fair on Leader side,  
as Newwark does on Yarrow.   

A mile below, who list to ride,  
they'll hear the Mavis singing;  
Into St. leonard's Bank she'll bide,  
sweet Birks her head o're-hinging:  
The Linewhite loud, and Progue proud,  
with tender throats and narrow,  
Into St. leonard's Banks do sing  
as sweet●e as in Yarrow.   

The Lapwing lilteth o'er the Lee,  
with ●imble wings she sporteth;  
But vows she'll not come near the tree  
where Philomela resorteth:  
By break of day the Lark can say,  
she bid you all good-morrow;  
I'l● you● and yell for● may dwell  
〈◊〉 ●eader-haughs and Yarow.   

Park Wanton-walls, and Wooden-Cleugh,  
the East and Wester Mainses,  
The Forest of Lawder's fair enough,  
the Corns are good in Blainslies;  
Where Oats are fine, and sold by kind,  
that if we search all thorough  
Me●s, Bnchan. Marr, none better are,  
than Leader-●aughs and Yarow.   

In Burn-Miln Boge, & White-slede shaws,  
〈◊〉 fearful Hare she haunteth;  
Bridge-haugh & Broad-wood sheil she knaws  
to the Chapel-wood frequenteth:  
Yet when she irks, to Kaiaslie Birks  
she runs and sighs for sorrow,  
That she should leave sweet Leader haughs  
and cannot win to yarrow.   

What sweetet music would you hear,  
than Hounds and Beigles crying?  
The Hare waits not, but flees for fear,  
their hard pursuits defying.  
But yet her strength it fails at length,  
no beilding can she borrow  
At Hags, Cleckmae, nor Sorlesfield,  
but longs to be at Yarow.   

For Rock-wood, Rink-wood, Rival, Almer,  
still thinking for to view her.  
But O to fail her strength gins,  
no cunning can rescue her:  
O'er dubb and dyke, o'er seugh and sick,  
she I run the fields all thorough;  
Yet ends her days in ●eader-haughs,  
and bids farewell to Yarow.   

Thou Erslingtow and Coldingknowes,  
where Humes had once commanding  
And Dry Grange with thy milk white Ewes  
'twixt Tweed and Leader stand  
The birds that flees through Red-path trees  
and Gledswood Bank all thorough,  
May chant and ●ng, sweet Leader-haughs,  
and the bonny Banks of Yarrow.   

But Burn cannot his grief assuage,  
while as his days endureth,  
To see the changes of his age,  
which day and time procureth.  
For many a place stands in hard case,  
where Burns was blithe beforrow,  
With Humes that dwelled on Leader side,  
and Scots that dwelled in Yarow.   

The words of Burn the Violer.  

WHat? shall my Viol silent be,  
or leave her wont scriding?  
But choice some sadder Elegy,  
no sports and mirds deriding:  
It must be fain with lower strain,  
than it was wont beforrow,  
To sound the praise of Leader-haughs,  
and the bonny Banks of Yarrow.   

But Floods have overflown the Banks,  
the greenish Haughs disgracing,  
And Trees in Woods grows thin in ranks  
about the fields defacing.  
For Waters waxes, Woods doth waind,  
more, if could for sorrow,  
In rural Verse, I could rehearse,  
of Leader-haughs and Yarow.   

But sighs and sobs o'rsets my breath,  
sore saltish tears forth sending.  
All things Sublunar here on earth  
are subject to an ending;  
So must my Song, though somewhat long,  
yet late at even and morrow,  
I'll sigh and sing, sweet Leader-haughs,  
and the bo●y Banks of Yarow.   
Hic terminus haeres.  
FINIS.