There grows a bonnie brier bush in oor kail-yard; An' sweet are the blossoms on't in oor kail-yard, An' abint that brier bush a lad and lass were heard, Rich busy, busy cootrn' in oor kail-yard.
In days o' mair simplicity sic things were aften dared, An' mony a heart's been lo'ed an' won in some kail-yard, But noo they're a' sae pridefu' grown their beauty needs a guard, An' lassies thraw their mou's at love in oor kail-yard,
There's some wha, think wi' pen an' ink true love can be declraed: They'll find shat passion wi' a pen is uncolly impaired; I dinna like the love, my lads, that's written on a card— No! I'd rather hae't by word o' mou' in some kail-yard,
When Adam in a singles tate of blessedness despaired, His coortn' was begun, I ween in his kail-yaird, We'll follow thee first o' men, nor be by fashion scared, As ye began we'll end the plan in some kail-yard,