 | The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson |  |
THE KIRK-YARD YEW.
I ance lo'ed a lass, a bonny sweet lass,
And pawky her een were, and blue;
She lo'ed me as weel as she lo'ed her ain brither,
And monie a time vow'd she cou'd ne'er like anither;
And leel was her heart, and true.
And pawky her een were, and blue;
She lo'ed me as weel as she lo'ed her ain brither,
And monie a time vow'd she cou'd ne'er like anither;
And leel was her heart, and true.
I gaed to the south, a sad sorrowfu' gate,
The journey, thro' life, I may rue;
Five years brought me hame, wi' a pain'd bosom burning,
Alake! a' my hopes were soon, soon chang'd to mourning—
She laid near the Kirk-yard Yew!
The journey, thro' life, I may rue;
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Alake! a' my hopes were soon, soon chang'd to mourning—
She laid near the Kirk-yard Yew!
I ran to the grave o' this blossom sae fair,
As the flow'rs sipp'd the mild e'ening dew;
A tear dimm'd my e'e, and I aft said wi' sorrow,
Sweet lassie! I fain wou'd rest near thee to-morrow,
In peace, near the Kirk-yard Yew!
As the flow'rs sipp'd the mild e'ening dew;
A tear dimm'd my e'e, and I aft said wi' sorrow,
Sweet lassie! I fain wou'd rest near thee to-morrow,
In peace, near the Kirk-yard Yew!
Ne'er, ne'er maun I ken sic a lassie again,
While this dark vale of life I toil thro';
Her name I'll ay treasure, where'er fate may thraw me,
And a tear afttimes gie her, whate'er may befa' me—
Sweet lass, near the Kirk-yard Yew!
While this dark vale of life I toil thro';
Her name I'll ay treasure, where'er fate may thraw me,
And a tear afttimes gie her, whate'er may befa' me—
Sweet lass, near the Kirk-yard Yew!
| The Poetical Works of Robert Anderson | |