The Golden Treasury of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language |
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| LXXXVI. |
| LXXXVII. |
| LXXXVIII. |
| LXXXIX. |
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| CXXV. |
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| CXXVIII. |
| CXXIX. |
| CXXX. |
| CXXXI. |
| CXXXII. |
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| CXXXIV. |
| CXXXV. | CXXXV
FAIR HELEN
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| CXXXVI. |
| CXXXVII. |
| CXXXVIII. |
| CXXXIX. |
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 | The Golden Treasury |  |
106
CXXXV
FAIR HELEN
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were where Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na but my heart was sair
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
When my Love dropt down and spak nae mair!
I laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
None but my foe to be my guide,
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hackéd him in pieces sma',
I hackéd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
I hackéd him in pieces sma',
I hackéd him in pieces sma',
For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
O that I were where Helen lies!
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, ‘Haste and come to me!’
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, ‘Haste and come to me!’
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rest
On fair Kirconnell lea.
107
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
Night and day on me she cries;
And I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
Anon.
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