Scottish - Crafts The Rowan Tree

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The Rowan Tree

Oh! rowan tree, oh! rowan tree,
Thou'lt aye be dear to me,
En twin'd thou art wi' mony ties,
O' hame and infancy.
Thy leaves were aye the first o' spring,
Thy flow'rs the simmer's pride;
There was na sic a bonnie tree,
In a' the countrie side.
Oh! rowan tree.

How fair wert thou in simmer time,
Wi' a' thy clusters white,
How rich and gay thy autumn dress,
Wi' berries red and bright.
On thy fair stem were mony names,
Which now nae mair I see;
But thy're engraven on my heart,
Forgot they ne'er can be.
Oh! rowan tree.

We sat aneath thy spreading shade,
The bairnies round thee ran,
They pu'd thy bonnie berries red,
And necklaces they strang;
My mither, oh! I see her still,
She smiled our sports to see,
Wi' little Jeanie on her lap,
And Jamie on her knee.
Oh!, rowan tree.

Oh! there arose my father's prayer,
In holy evening's calm;
How sweet was then my mother's voice,
In the Martyr's psalm!
Now a'are gane! We meet nae mair,
Aneath the rowan tree,
But hallowed thoughts around thee,
Turn o'hame and infancy.
Oh! rowan tree.