(4)
When he was done speaking, I turned and shook,
My empty porrmantau, and thenceforth I took,
My leave of the shepherds, and from them did stray,
Wishing well to the Stewartry of Galloway.
The Royal Highlander’s Farewel.
Tune.—Lochaber no more.
Farewel to Great Britain, since we leave the shore,
Perhaps we shall see thee dear Island no more;
O then it must grieve us and trouble our mind,
To leave our relations and friends all behind:
Our fathers and mothers, and sisters to mourn,
And brothers all doubtful if e’er we return;
Yet tho’ this must grieve us, it troubles us more,
To leave these dear charmers whom we do adore.
In Glasgow fair city, how did we delight,
What pleasure enjoy’d by day and by night,
In summer sweet season, when first we came here,
What crowds did surround us, they lov’d us so dear,
How sweet was our music that play’d on the green,
When hundreds of sweet girls were there to be seen;
But now it’s all over, we’ll play there no more,
We’ll hear no sweet music, but cannons that roar.
When summner is coming the meadows look gay,
And flowers shall be clothed in their swcet array.
The hawthorn shall blossom, the daisies shall spring,
The lark and the linnet, so sweetly shall sing;
In the groves that cover she banks of the clyde,
Where often we’ve walked with joy on each side,
But short was our pleasure, unconstant like dreams,
For now we must leave thee and thy purling streams.
Well, since 'tis our orders, why should we repine,
For glory and honour is all our design:
With gun & with broad sword we’ll face all our foe,
