What's A' Your Jargon O'

Now Nature Hangs Her Mantle Green On Every Blooming Tree, And Spreads Her Sheets O'daisies White Out O'er The Grassy Lea.

Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, Among Thy Green Braes, Flow Gently, I'll Sing Thee A Song In Thy Praise.

As Tammie Glow'red, Amazed And Curious, The Mirth And Fun Grew Fast And Furious.

Good Lord, What Is Man! For As Simple He Looks, Do But Try To Develop His Books And His Crooks, With His Depths And His Shallows, His Good And His Evil, All In All, He's A Problem Must Puzzle The Devil.

It's Hardly In A Body's Pow'r,to Keep, At Times, Frae Being Sour.