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Rhymes and Recollections of a Hand-Loom Weaver

By William Thom. Edited, with a Biographical Sketch, by W. Skinner

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MY HAMELESS HA'.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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MY HAMELESS HA'.

Oh! how can I be cheerie in this hameless ha'?
The very sun glints eerie on the gilded wa';
An' aye the nicht sae drearie,
Ere the dowie morn daw,
Whan I canna win to see you
My Jamie ava.
Tho' monie miles between us, an' far, far frae me,
The bush that wont to screen us frae the cauld warl's e'e,
Its leaves may waste and wither,
But its branches winna fa';

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An' hearts may haud thegither,
Tho' frien's drap awa'.
Ye promis'd to speak o' me to the lanesome moon,
An' weird kind wishes to me, in the lark's saft soun';
I doat upon that moon,
Till my very heart fills fu';
An' aye yon birdie's tune
Gars me greet for you.
Then how can I be cheerie in the stranger's ha'?
A gowden prison drearie, my luckless fa'!
'Tween leavin' o' you Jamie,
An' ills that sorrow me,
I'm wearie o' the warl'
An' carena though I dee.