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 LASSIE ON THE BANKS OF CART. |
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
THE LASSIE ON THE BANKS OF CART.
The lint's in the bell, and the bloom's on the pea,
And the gowans, snaw-white, gem the green grassy lea;
In the fresh birken shaw the sweet blackbird now sings,
And wi' chorus o' larks a' the welkin loud rings.
The gloamin' draws on, and my labour is done,
And the houlet now screams frae the wa's o' Pynoon;
Wi' joy I'll tak' the gaet, like an arrow or a dart,
To my heart enchantin' lassie on the banks of Cart.
And the gowans, snaw-white, gem the green grassy lea;
In the fresh birken shaw the sweet blackbird now sings,
And wi' chorus o' larks a' the welkin loud rings.
The gloamin' draws on, and my labour is done,
And the houlet now screams frae the wa's o' Pynoon;
Wi' joy I'll tak' the gaet, like an arrow or a dart,
To my heart enchantin' lassie on the banks of Cart.
O sweet is the glance o' her mild modest e'e,
And warm is the love that she still shows to me;
Her heart's aye sae leal, and her manner sae kind,
That the strong cords of love 'round my heart are twined.
And lang may they bind my affection to her,
Whom I above all earthly objects revere!
We aye should meet at morn, if that night I mean to part,
With my charming loving lassie on the banks of Cart.
And warm is the love that she still shows to me;
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That the strong cords of love 'round my heart are twined.
And lang may they bind my affection to her,
Whom I above all earthly objects revere!
We aye should meet at morn, if that night I mean to part,
With my charming loving lassie on the banks of Cart.
When winter assails us wi' cauld wind and weet,
And boreas descends, clad in hail, snow, or sleet,
I could wend to my true love, as blithsome and gay
As in warm July, or the mildest of May.
Gi'e av'rice to wallow in spoils of Peru,
Gi'e me but my Jeannie, sae constant and true;
Wi' rapture still we meet, but the tear is like to start,
When I leave my lovely lassie on the banks of Cart.
And boreas descends, clad in hail, snow, or sleet,
I could wend to my true love, as blithsome and gay
As in warm July, or the mildest of May.
Gi'e av'rice to wallow in spoils of Peru,
Gi'e me but my Jeannie, sae constant and true;
Wi' rapture still we meet, but the tear is like to start,
When I leave my lovely lassie on the banks of Cart.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |