The Book of Scottish Song/The Unhappy Father

The Unhappy Father.

[Alexander Laing.]

Ah! lassie, I think wi' a sair broken heart,
⁠On the licht happy time that's awa';
When smiling ye sat on your fond mither's knee,
⁠An' prattl'd an' lisped—"mamma,"—
On the blythe happy days when ye play'd on the green,
⁠An' when I unyoked my team:
How ye left a' your play-things an' totter'd an' ran,
⁠An' met me at e'en coming hame.

O, then I was happy, an' fond were the hopes
⁠Affection sae feelingly drew;
The fears o' the future that vext me at times,
⁠A' fled when I thocht upon you:
I thocht gin I liv'd to be helpless an' auld,
⁠Gin second childhood I should see—
Should providence spare, I had ane growin' up,
⁠Wad then be a parent to me.

I taught you betimes, as a father should do,
⁠The path o' true virtue to prize;
An' as far as I could, wi' the precepts I gave,
⁠I gave you example likewise;
An' duly at morning an' evening I pray'd,
⁠That gudeness wad aye be your guide—
But ye've chosen to walk i' your ain wilfu' ways,
⁠And the blessing has yet been denied.

Ye've left me to see that I've rested my hopes,
⁠On the perishing faith of a dream;
The dawn o' your promise—the day-spring o' life,
⁠Ye've clouded wi' sin an' wi' shame.
Oh! lassie, I think wi' a sair broken heart,
⁠On the licht happy time that's awa';
When smiling ye sat on your fond mither's knee,
⁠An' prattl'd an' lisped—"mamma!"

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