7
THE MILL, MILL O.
Beneath a green shade I fand a fair maid,
was sleeping sound and still O;
A' lowin wi' love my fancy did rove,
around her wi’ good will O.
Her bosom I prest but sunk in her rest,
she stirr'd na my joys to spill O,
While kindly she slept close to her I crept,
and kiss'd and kiss'd her my fill O.
Obliged by command in Flander to land,
t’employ my courage and skill O,
Frae her quietly I staw, hoist sails an’ awa,
For the wind blew fair on the billow,
Twa years brought me hame, when loud-raising Fame,
tauld me wi’ a voice right shill O,
My lass like a fool had mounted the stool,
nor kend wha had done her the ill, O.
Mair fond o' her charm wi' my son in her arms,
I ferlying spear'd how she fell, O;
Wi' the tear in her ee quo she, let me die,
