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Songs

Chiefly in the Rural Language of Scotland. By Allan Cunningham
  
  

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12

THE LOCK OF RAVEN HAIR.

SONG VI.

1

I have a lock of raven hair,
I have a white silk glove;
And they are richly rain'd with tears
Of sad despairing love.
With soul-warm kisses on my lips,
To seal the true love token;
And many a heaven-attested vow,
Faithless all, and broken.

2

How dear was once her lillie hand,
That propp'd her rosie cheek;
Dear was the blink of her black eye,
Which speechless love did speak.
How dear to me her lisping tongue,
Confessing love so meek;
And dearly she dwells within this heart,
Which her neglect doth break.

3

Her lowland plaid is laid aside,
Her white-wool hose and shoon;
O'er her shoulders flows a gold weft veil,
And long grass-sweeping gown.

13

No more she pours the sweet Scotch sang,
Wild warbling through the grove;
Nor in sweet rumination strays
To meet her faithful love.

4

O she may show those links of gold,
Hung o'er her bosom bare;
And she may show those diamond spraings,
Which truss her inky hair.
And she may show her new domains,
So richly laid and fair;
And she may show her heart to her God,
What broken vows are there.