Page:Bessy Bell and Mary Gray (1).pdf/6

 In some sweet wee bow'ry den;

Or fondly stray amang the rashes,

Wi' the lassie o' the glen.

O the birken, &c.

But tho' I wander now unhappy,

Far frae scenes we haunted then,

I'll ne'er forget the—bank sae grassy,

Nor—the lassie o' the glen.

O the birken, &c.





O are ye sleeping, Maggie,

O are ye sleeping, Maggie;

Let me in, for loud the linn

Is roaring o'er the warlock craigie.

and rainy is the night,

No a starn in a' the carry;

Lightnings gleam athwart the lift,

And winds drive wi' winter's fury.

O are ye, &c.

Fearful soughs the boortree bank,

The rifted wood roars wild and drearie;

Loud the iron yate does clank,

And cry of howlets maks me eerie.

O are ye, &c.