That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
Thy one brief parting pang may show:
And withering thoughts for soul that dashes,
From deep to deep, are but a death more slow.
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Your impudence protects you sairly;
I canna say but ye strunt rarely
Owre gauze an' lace;
Though faith! I fear ye dine but sparely
On sic a place.
HEX: #31322D
RGB: 49 50 45
RGB: 49 50 45
HEX: #59535F
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RGB: 89 83 95
HEX: #B57164
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RGB: 181 113 100
HEX: #7B5C61
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RGB: 123 92 97
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RGB: 244 217 140
A swarm of young midges, they dance high and low;
'Tis a sweet little species that lives but one hour,
And the eldest was born half an hour ago.
