Of all the gifts on Scotland's hills
The primrose is most fair
It stops the hiker in their tracks
And keeps them there to stare
At its kind form and beauty soft
I love it I confide
As deep among the heather blooms
It almost seems to hide
Like a young maid who may not know
That beauty's come her way
While others see her prettiness
And long with her to stay
So if you see that yellow bloom
When summer comes around
You'll know it is a precious thing
On Scotland's hills you've found.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
Of all the gifts on Scotland's hills
The primrose is most fair
It stops the hiker in their tracks
And keeps them there to stare
At its kind form and beauty soft
I love it I confide
As deep among the heather blooms
It almost seems to hide
Like a young maid who may not know
That beauty's come her way
While others see her prettiness
And long with her to stay
So if you see that yellow bloom
When summer comes around
You'll know it is a precious thing
On Scotland's hills you've found.
