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And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 30
AULD ROBIN GRAY When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hane, And a' the warld to rest are gane, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e’e, While my gudeman lies sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his
But saving a croun he had naething else beside :
stown awa ;
his e'e Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me ! My heart it said nay ; I look'd for Jamie back; But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a
wrack ; His ship it was a wrack-why didna Jamie dee? Or why do I live to cry, Wae's me ? My father urgit sair : my mother didna speak ; But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to
break : They gi’ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea; Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.
I hadna been a wife a week but only four,
O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin ;
LADY A. LINDSAY.
Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't:
Ha, ha, the wooing o’t !
Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd ;
Time and chance are but a tide,
How it comes let doctors tell,
a sigh she brings ;
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
THE SAILOR'S WIFE
And are ye sure the news is true ?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Ye jades, lay by your wheel ;
When Colin's at the door ?
And see him come ashore.
There 's nae luck at a';
When our gudeman 's awa'.
My bishop's satin gown ;
That Colin's in the town.
My stockins pearly blue ;
For he's baith leal and true.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle pot ;
And Jock his Sunday coat;
Their hose as white as snaw;
For he's been long awa'.
There 's twa fat hens upo' the coop
Been fed this month and mair ;
That Colin weel may fare ;
Gar ilka thing look braw,
When he was far awa' ?
Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech,
His breath like caller air ; His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair-
And will I hear him speak ?
In troth I'm like to greet !
If Colin 's weel, and weel content,
45 I hae nae mair to crave : And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave : And will I see his face again, And will I hear him speak ?
50 I'm downright dizzy wil the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
There's nae luck at a';
55 When our gudeman 's awa'.
W. J. MICKLE.
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly like the West,
4 There's wild woods grow, and rivers row,
And mony a hill between ;
Is ever wi' my Jean.
10 I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
I hear her charm the air : There's not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
But minds me o' my Jean.
Amang the leafy trees ;
Bring hame the laden bees ;
That's ay sae neat and clean Ae smile o her wad banish care,
Sae charming is my Jean.
Hae pass'd atween us twa !
That night she gaed awa !
30 That nane can be sae dear to me As my sweet lovely Jean !