7
Till death seals up my wearied e'e,
In troubled dreams her form I'll see;
Till she consents to live wi' me,
In lonesome shades I'll wander.
———
SWEET KITTY O' THE CLYDE.
A Boat danc'd on Clyde's bonny stream,
When winds were rudely blowing,
There sat what might the goddess seem,
Of the waves beneath her flowing;
But no I a mortal fair was she,
Surpassing a' beside;
And youths a' speer'd her choice to be--
Sweet Kitty o' the Clyde.
I saw the boatman spread a sail,
And while his daftness noting,
The boat was upset by the gale,
I saw sweet Kitty floating:
I plung'd into the silver wave,
Wi' Cupid for my guide,
And thought my heart weel lost to save,
Sweet Kitty o' the Clyde.
But Kitty is a high-born fair;
A lowly name I carry,
Nor can wi' lordly Thanes compare,
Who woo'd the maid to marry:
But she na scornfu' looks on me,
And joy may yet betide,
For hope dares flatter mine may be,
Sweet Kitty o' the Clyde.
