And wasna Cockpen richt saucy witha',
And wasna Cockpen richt saucy witha',
In leaving the dochter of a lord,
And kissing a collier lassie an' a'?
O never look doun, my lassie, at a',
O never look doun, my lassie, at a',
Thy lips are as sweet, and thy figure complete,
As the finest dame in castle or ha'.
Though thou ha'e nae silk and holland sae sma',
Though thou ha'e nae silk and holland sae sma',
Thy coat and thy sark are thy ain handywark,
And Lady Jean was never sae braw.
Hame.
[By John Dougal, formerly of Paisley now of Montreal.]
Oh! tell na me that this is hame,—
It is nae hame to me:
Ilk thing is fremit to my heart,
An' unco to my e'e.
If I could see the bonnie brume
On ilka sandy knowe;
An' the whins in a' their gowden pride,
On green hill sides that grow:
If I could see the primrose blume
In mony a hazel glen,
Whar linties chirp, and merles sing,
Far free the step o' men:
If I could see the morning sun
Glint owre the dewy corn,
While a thousan' laverocks in the sky
Are welcoming the morn:
If I could see the gowan spread
Its wee flowers on the lea,
An' the heather blume on the mountain bare,
And the ivy climb the tree:
If I could see the sunny kirk-yard,
Whar my frien's lie side by side,
And think that I could lay my banes
Beside them when I died:—
Then might I think that this was hame,
And gladly live and dee,
Nor feel this want at my heart's core,
My native land, for thee.
The dying Girl’s song.
[W. B. Sangster.—Here first printed.]
Farewell, my bonnie yellow hair!
Ye fell in rows o' gowden sheen
Aboon my bosom, lily fair,
An' clung in clusters round my een.
My roun', my rosy cheeks, farewell!—
Ye were my soul's idolatry.
Farewell, sweet mouth!—oh, ruby cell!
Thy pearls a' ha'e dropp'd away!
The licht that shot its saften beams
Frae out my een o' bonnie blue
Is gane, and I am lost in dreams
Of what I was—what I am too!
Days, months and years ha'e wrought and wark
On me, my brother!—do not weep:
I go to God's appointed ark,
To take my rest, an' sleep my sleep!
An' when new visions rise on me,
And life's dark water's gathered in,
I'll land on an eternity
Of life, unsweetened by sin.
Farewell, farewell, thou dear loo'd light!—
Ah! much too dear so soon to part;
The clouds o' death's unwelcome night
Are settling dreary round my heart.
Oh, take my hand—oh, kiss my brow—
Oh, brother!—brother, do not weep,
To pain our parting!—let me go
In peace to my appointed sleep!
There are no tears where angels sing
Their tongueless orisons of love;
An' now I fly with gladden'd wing
To meet them in the courts above.
