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I ha'e play'd to ladies fair and gay, In mony a southren ball ; But there was one, far, far away, A world above them all. And now, tho' weary years have fled. I think wi' mournfu' joy, Upon the time when Mary wed Her Highland minstrel boy.
FORGET ME NOT!
Go, youth belov'd, to distant glades, New friends, new hopes, new joys to find; Yet sometimes deign 'midst fairer maids, To think on her thou leav'st behind. Thy love, thy fate, dear youth, to share, Must never be my happy lot; But thou may'st grant this humble prayer-- Forget me not! forget me not!
Yet should the thought of my distress Too painful to thy feelings be, Heed not the wish I now express, Nor ever deign to think on me. But, oh, if grief thy steps attend, If want, if sickness be thy lot, And thou require a soothing friend, Forget me not ! forget me not!
