Sweet the bard, and sweet his strain,
Breath'd where mirth and friendship reign,
O'er ilk woodland, hill, and plain,
   And loch o' Caledonia.
Sweet the rural scenes he drew,
Sweet the fairy tints he threw
O'er the page, to nature true,
   And dear to Caledonia.
But the strain so lov'd is o'er,
And the bard so lov'd no more
Shall his magic stanzas pour
   To love and Caledonia.

Ayr and Doon may row their floods,
Birds may warble through the woods,
Dews may gem the op'ning buds,
   And daisies bloom fu' bonnie, O;
Lads fu blythe and lasses fain,
Still my love, but ne'er again
Will they wake the gifted strain
   O' Burns and Caledonia.
While his native vales among,
Love is felt, or beauty sung,
Hearts will beat and harps be strung
   To Burns and Caledonia.


John Burtt
- written for an anniversary of Burns held in Philadelphia.