Explore "The Bonie Moor-Hen" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The heather was blooming, the meadows were mawn, / Our lads gaed a-hunting ae day at the dawn, / O'er moors and o'er mosses and mony a glen, / At length they discover'd a bonie moor-hen.
Chorus. -I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men, / I rede you, beware at the hunting, young men; / Take some on the wing, and some as they spring, / But cannily steal on a bonie moor-hen.
Sweet-brushing the dew from the brown heather bells / Her colours betray'd her on yon mossy fells; / Her plumage outlustr'd the pride o' the spring / And O! as she wanton'd sae gay on the wing. / I rede you, &c.
Auld Phoebus himself, as he peep'd o'er the hill, / In spite at her plumage he tried his skill; / He levell'd his rays where she bask'd on the brae- / His rays were outshone, and but mark'd where she lay. / I rede you,&c.
They hunted the valley, they hunted the hill, / The best of our lads wi' the best o' their skill; / But still as the fairest she sat in their sight, / Then, whirr! she was over, a mile at a flight. / I rede you, &c.