Page:Battle of the Boyn (2).pdf/8

 That I am forsaken, some spare not to tell;

I'm fash'd wi' their scorning,

Baith evening and morning,

Their jeering gaes aft to my heart wi' a knell,

When thro' the wood, laddie, I wander mysell.

Then stay, my dear Sandy, bae langer away,

But quick as an arrow,

Haste here to thy marrow,

Whe's living in langour, till that happy day, (F!

When thro' the wood, laddie, we'll dance, sing