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Rh

M, why thus waste thy youth-time in sorrow? See a’ around you the flowers sweetly blaw, Blythe sets the sun o’er the wild cliffs of Jura, Blythe sings the mavis in ilka great shaw. How can this heart ever mair think o’ pleasure, Summer may smile, but delight I have nane, Cauld in the grave lies my heart’s only treasure, Nature seems dead, since my Jamie is gane.

This ’kerchief he gave me, a true lover’s token, Dear, dear to me was the gift for his sake; I wear’t near my heart, but this poor heart is broken, Hope died wi’ my Jamie, and left it to break. Sighing for him, I lie down in the evening, Sighing for him, I awake in the morn, Spent were my days, a’ in secret repining Peace to this bosom can never return.

Oft have we wandered in sweetest retirement, Telling our love neath the moon’s silent beam Sweet were our meetings of tender endearment, But fled are these joys like fleet passing dream