. Poems and songs . fars the Pole and Line,Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine. Though mountains frown and deserts how And oceans roar between;Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. BLITHE WAS —Andro and his cutty gun. Blithe, blithe and merry 7cas she,Blithe tvas she but and ben : Blithe by the banks of Em,But blither in Glenturit glen. By Oughtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw; But Phemie was a bonnier lassThan braes o Yarrow ever saw. Her looks were like a flower in May,Her smile was like a simmer morn ; She tripped by t
. Poems and songs . fars the Pole and Line,Her dear idea round my heart Should tenderly entwine. Though mountains frown and deserts how And oceans roar between;Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, I still would love my Jean. BLITHE WAS —Andro and his cutty gun. Blithe, blithe and merry 7cas she,Blithe tvas she but and ben : Blithe by the banks of Em,But blither in Glenturit glen. By Oughtertyre grows the aik, On Yarrow banks, the birken shaw; But Phemie was a bonnier lassThan braes o Yarrow ever saw. Her looks were like a flower in May,Her smile was like a simmer morn ; She tripped by the banks of Ern,As lights a bird upon a thorn. Her bonnie face it was as meek As ony lambs upon a lea,The evening sun was neer sae sweet As was the blink o Phemies ee. The Highland hills Ive wanderd wideAnd oer the Lowlands I hae been; But Phemie was the blithest lassThat ever trod the dewy green. Blithe, blithe and merry was she,Blithe was she but and ben: Blithe by the banks of Em,But blither in Glenturit ?^fi: WHEN WILD WARS DEADLY BLAST WAS BLAWN. When wild wars deadly blast was blawn, And gentle peace returning,Wi monie a sweet babe fatherless, And mony a widow mourning : WHEN WILD WARS DEADLY BLAST. I I 7 I left the lines and tented field, Where lang Id been a lodger,My humble knapsack a my wealth, A poor and honest soger. A leal, light heart was in my breast, My hand unstaind wi plunder ;And for fair Scotia, hame again, I cheery on did wander.[ thought upon the banks o Coil, I thought upon my Nancy,I thought upon the witching smile That caught my youthful fancy. At length I reachd the bonie glen, Where early life I sported ;I passd the mill, and trysting thorn, Where Nancy aft I courted :Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, Down by her mothers dwelling!And turnd me round to hide the flood That in my een was swelling. Wi alterd voice, quoth I, Sweet lass,Sweet as yon hawthorns blossom, 0 ! happy, happy may he be,Thats dearest to thy bosom ! My purse is light, Ive fa
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Keywords: ., bookauthorburnsrob, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookyear1858
