ROBERT BURNS.
Or did Misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.
II.
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,.
The desert were a Paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Or were I monarch of the globe,
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.
14.
How Lang and Dreary is the Night.
Chorus.
And O, her dreams are eerie,
And O, her widow'd heart is sair,
That's absent frae her dearie!
I.
When I am frae my dearie!
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
II.
I spent wi' thee, my dearie,
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