The Sentimental Songster/Farewell to Aberfoyle
FAREWELL TO ABERFOYLE,
My tortured bosom lang shall feel
The pangs of this last sad farewell;
Far, far to foreign lands I stray.
To spend the hours in deepest wae.
Farewell my dear and native soil,
Farewell, the braes o' Aberfoyle.
And fare ye well my winsome love,
Into whatever lands I rove,
Thou’lt claim the deepest, dearest sigh,
The warmest tear e’er wet my eye;
And when I’m wand'ring many a mile,
I’ll think on Kate o’ Aberfoyle.
When far upon the raging sea,
While thunders roll and lightnings flee.
When sweeping storms the ship assail,
I’ll bless the music of the gale!
And when I’m listning a’ the while,
I’ll think on Kate o’ Aberfoyle.
Katy, my only love, farewell;
What pangs my faithful heart shall feel,
While straying through the Indian groves,
Weeping our waes, our early loves:
I'll ne’er mair see my native soil,
Farewell, farewell, sweet Aberfoyle.