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Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain,
While each passerby in pity,
Cries God helpthee Crazy Jane.
MARCH AND ON WI' CHARLIE.
Air—Whistle o'er the laveo't.
I've heard the muircock's early craw,
I've seen the morning's rosy daw,
But this is blithest o' them a',
To march awa wi' Charlie.
Our Scottish flags like streamers wave
It's Charlie's sel that leads the brave
We winna flinch nor fear a grave,
But stand or fa' wi' Charlie,
