-----
Doric Lays.Simmer Flowers.Ye come and gang sweet simmer flowers,And laich ye may be laid,But weel I ken ye'll blume againWhatever may be said.Tine as ye will your silken claes,The bonniest o' ye a',Tho' ye but tell the nitkerin' taleThat sae I'll slip awa'.Yet, idols o' my hamely hearth,Ye're aye the same to meAs when, wi' steekit een, I eoor'dAside my mither's knee;
{{comment.content}}