 | The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill |  |
AWAKE, MY HARP, THE CHEERFUL STRAIN.
Awake, my harp, the cheerful strain!Shall I, the first of Erin's warrior band,
In wasting sorrow still complain?
The first to dare stern danger's bloody field,
Shall I to silly, changeful woman yield?
No,—raise, my harp, the cheerful strain,
What is a rosy cheek, or lily hand!
Since thus she scorns, I 'll scorn again.
| The songs and poems of Robert Tannahill | |