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I’m up in the morning early To meet the dawn of day, And to the lintwhite’s piping The many’s the tune I play.

There’s Gala Water, Leader Haughs, Both lying right before us; And Dryburgh, where with chiming Tweed The lintwhites sing in chorus.

But hawks will rob the tender joys That bless the little lintwhite’s nest; And frost will blight the fairest flowers, And love will break the soundest rest.

He had no reason to suppose that this day more than another he would find her, but there, half a mile from White Farm, he came upon her, standing, watching a lintwhite's nest.

Song I The lintwhite and the throstlecock Have voices sweet and clear; All in the bloomèd May.