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The Broom sae Green.

Lang I sat by the broom sae green,
An' oh, my heart was eerie,
For aye this strain was breathed within,
Your laddie will no come near ye!
Lie still, thou wee bit fluttering thing,
What means this weary wavering?
Nae heart returns thy raptured spring,
Your laddie will no come near ye!
His leifu' sang the robin sung
On the bough that hung sae near me;
Wi' tender grief my heart was wrung,
For oh, the strain was dreary!
The robin's sang it coudna be
That gart the tear-drap blind my e'e;
How ken'd the wee bird on the tree
That my laddie wad no come near me?
The new-wean'd lamb on yonder lea
It bleats out through the braken,
The herried bird upon the tree
Mourns o'er its nest forsaken;
If they are wae, how weel may I?
Nae grief like mine aneath the sky;
The lad I lo'e he cares nae by,
Though my fond heart is breaking!