 | The dominie's disaster |  |
23
WATERLOO.
A SONG.
On Fortha's banks, that fresh and fair
Were glitterin' to the evening dew,
A maiden sung, wi' plaintive air,
Her soldier slain at Waterloo.
“Alas!” she cried, “my heart was sad
Whan Sandy sigh'd his last adieu:
An' here nae mair can I be glad
Sin' cauld he lies on Waterloo.
Were glitterin' to the evening dew,
A maiden sung, wi' plaintive air,
Her soldier slain at Waterloo.
“Alas!” she cried, “my heart was sad
Whan Sandy sigh'd his last adieu:
An' here nae mair can I be glad
Sin' cauld he lies on Waterloo.
O had my Sandy staid at hame
Whan he the blade o' battle drew,
I'd aiblins never heard the name,
The fatal name o' Waterloo.
But martial glory fir'd his breast,
His native hamlet tiresome grew;
He sped to meet high heaven's behest,
An' conq'rin' fell on Waterloo.
Whan he the blade o' battle drew,
I'd aiblins never heard the name,
The fatal name o' Waterloo.
24
His native hamlet tiresome grew;
He sped to meet high heaven's behest,
An' conq'rin' fell on Waterloo.
Wi' tearfu' e'e I now behold
Anither haud my Sandy's plough,
While his remains lie stiff an' cold
'Mang thousands slain on Waterloo.
But soon, I hope, we'll meet again
In realms o' bliss, forever new,
Whare peace an' endless pleasures reign,
Forgotten war an' Waterloo.”
Anither haud my Sandy's plough,
While his remains lie stiff an' cold
'Mang thousands slain on Waterloo.
But soon, I hope, we'll meet again
In realms o' bliss, forever new,
Whare peace an' endless pleasures reign,
Forgotten war an' Waterloo.”
| The dominie's disaster | |