Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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THE FORTUNATE WANDERER. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE FORTUNATE WANDERER.
Shepherd, rowe me in thy plaid,
And screen me frae the stormy weather;
I've stray'd on that bleak mountain side,
Forlorn and dreary 'mang the heather.
Owre the muir amang the heather,
Owre the muir amang the heather;
The lad I loved inconstant proved,
Which makes me wander 'mang the heather.
And screen me frae the stormy weather;
I've stray'd on that bleak mountain side,
Forlorn and dreary 'mang the heather.
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Owre the muir amang the heather;
The lad I loved inconstant proved,
Which makes me wander 'mang the heather.
With him I stray'd through glen and glade,
By meadow green, and purling fountain;
But now I'm left, of peace bereft,
To wander lanely on the mountain.
Owre the muir, &c.
But now frae joy debarr'd am I,
To stray and weep amang the heather.
By meadow green, and purling fountain;
But now I'm left, of peace bereft,
To wander lanely on the mountain.
Owre the muir, &c.
But now frae joy debarr'd am I,
To stray and weep amang the heather.
His languid eyes and frequent sighs,
Bespoke a passion felt sincerely,
When close he press'd me to his breast,
And vow'd he'd ever love me dearly.
Owre the muir, &c.
By burn and brae, we spent the day,
On tales o' love wi' ane anither.
Bespoke a passion felt sincerely,
When close he press'd me to his breast,
And vow'd he'd ever love me dearly.
Owre the muir, &c.
By burn and brae, we spent the day,
On tales o' love wi' ane anither.
“Forgo thy fears, dry up thy tears,
Nor seek a faithless lover blindly;
If in my cot, thou'lt share my lot,
Here is the heart will treat thee kindly.
Owre the muir, &c.
Aloof frae strife, we'll glide through life,
Where lambkins play amang the heather.
Nor seek a faithless lover blindly;
If in my cot, thou'lt share my lot,
Here is the heart will treat thee kindly.
Owre the muir, &c.
Aloof frae strife, we'll glide through life,
Where lambkins play amang the heather.
Come in my plaid, my lovely maid,
Nor longer roam the mountain dreary;
Through summer mild, and winter wild,
Wi' me thou shalt be ever cheery.
Owre the muir, &c.
Till life's last day, I'll with thee stay,
Where blooms the bonny purple heather.
Nor longer roam the mountain dreary;
Through summer mild, and winter wild,
Wi' me thou shalt be ever cheery.
Owre the muir, &c.
Till life's last day, I'll with thee stay,
Where blooms the bonny purple heather.
To him she clings—he round her flings
His tartan plaid, the rain defending,
Her tear-soil'd eye now beams wi' joy,
While rapture's heaving sigh's ascending.
Owre the muir, &c.
Baith nicht and day, she's glad and gay,
Wi' her dear swain amang the heather.
His tartan plaid, the rain defending,
Her tear-soil'd eye now beams wi' joy,
While rapture's heaving sigh's ascending.
Owre the muir, &c.
Baith nicht and day, she's glad and gay,
Wi' her dear swain amang the heather.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |