WHEN peat is press’d
by feet of fawn
Lovely Loch Lomond
Dreams in the dawn.
When cobweb clouds
are silver-spun
Lovely Loch Lomond
Shines in the sun.
When trees are toss'd
And leaves are thinn’d
Lovely Loch Lomond
Wakes in the wind.
When hush of snow
the hollow fills
Lovely Loch Lomond
mirrors the hills.
