8
Fearfu' soughs the boor-tree bank,
The rifted wood roars wild an' dreary,
Loud the iron yate does clank,
And cry o' howlets maks me eerie.
O are ye sleepin', Maggy, &c.
Aboon my breath I darena speak,
For fear I rouse your wankrife dadie,
Cauld's the blast upon my cheek,
O rise, rise my bonny lady!
O are ye sleepin', Maggy, &c.
She's op't the door she's let him in,
He cuist aside his dreeping plaidie;
"Blaw your warst ye rain an' win,
Since now I'm in aside ye Maggy."
BANKS OF BANNA.
Shepherds, I have lost my love,
Have you seen my Anna,
Pride of ev'ry shady grove,
Upon the banks of Banna?
I for her my home forsook,
Near yen misty mountain,
Left my flock, my pipe, my crook,
Greenwood shade and fountain.
Never shall I see them more,
Until her returning:
All the joys of life are o'er,
From gladness chang‘d to mourning
Whither is my charner flown!
Shepherd, tell me whither?
Ah, woe for me! perhaps she's gone
For ever, and for ever.
FINIS.
