ROSIE WAS FAITHFU'.
WHEN Rosie was faithful, how happy was I,
Still gladsome as summer the time glided by:
I played my harp cheery, while fondly I sang,
Of the charms of my Rosie the winter nights lang:
But now I'm as waefu' a waefu' can be,
Come summer, come winter, 'tis a' ane to me,
For the dark gloom of falsehood sae clouds my sad soul,
That cheerless for aye is the Harper of Mull
I wander the glens and the wild woods alane,
In their deepest recesses I make my sad mane,
My harp's mournful melody joins in the strain
While sadly I sing of the days that are gane:
Tho' Rosie is faithless, she's no the less fair,
And the thought of her beauty but feeds my despairs
With painful remembrance my bosom is full,
And weary of life is the Harper of Mull.
As slumbering I lay by the dark mountain stream,
My lovely young Rosie appeared in my dream;
I thought her still kind and I ne'er was sae blest,
As in fancy I clasped the dear nymph to my breast;
Thou false fleeting vision, too soon wert thou o'er,
Thou wak'dst me to tortures unequalled before;
But death's silent slumbers my grief soon shall lull,
And the green grass wave over the Harper of Mull.
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O ROW THEE IN MY HIGHLAND PLAID,
LOWLAND lassie wilt thou go
Where the hills are clad with snow,
Where, beneath the icy steep,
The hardy shepherd tends his sheep!
Ill nor wae shall thee betide,
When row'd within my Highland plaid.
