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And when on slumber's soft billows I rest,
I behold the sweet shade of my dearie.
But as long as I live. and as long as I breath,
I will sing to his memory rarely,
Till love is united by the arrows of death,
O Flora shall mourn for her Charlie.
THE BANKS OF THE DEE.
'Twas summer and sweetly the breeses were blowing,
And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree;
At the foot of a rock where the river was flowing,
I set myself down on the banks of the Dee
Flow on lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river
Thy banks purest stream shall be dear to me ever,
For there I first gained the affection and favour
Of Jamie the pride and the flower of the Dee.
But now he's gone from me and left me thus mourning
To quell the proud rebels for valiant is he,
And ah there's no hope of his speedy returning,
To wander again on the banks of the Dee.
He's gone. hapless youth, o'er the loud roaring billows,
The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows.
And left me to stray 'mong'st these once loved willows,
The lonliest maid on the banks of the Dee.
