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SONG.
 
 
 
 
 
 


181

SONG.

[O Jeanie! why that look sae cauld]

O Jeanie! why that look sae cauld,
And withering to me now?
And wherefore lours that cloud o' gloom
Upon thy bonnie brow?
What hae I said, what hae I done,
To draw sic looks frae thee;
Is this the love—the fond regard
Sae lately pledged to me?
O Jamie! wherefore spier at me?
Ye ken the cause yoursel',
Ye thocht yestreen, ye werena seen
Alang wi' bonnie Bell:
Your arm was claspit round her waist,
Your cheek to her's was laid,
And mony a melting kiss she gat,
While row'd within your plaid.
O lassie dear! thou wrang'st me sair,
Wi' jealous thochts and mean;
For I was twenty miles and mair,
Awa' frae hame yestreen:
I gaed to see my brither dear,
A gift he sent to thee;
And see—thou maun this necklace wear,
That day thou'rt wed to me.

182

And art thou, then, still true to me?
I'll ne'er forgie mysel';
O, what could tempt me to believe,
Thou'd'st leave thy Jean for Bell?
But there's my hand, I'll never mair
Dream foolish thochts o' thee;
But love wi' a' a woman's love,
Till light forsake mine e'e.