Page:Braes of Yarrow.pdf/5

 His carriage neat his limbs complete,

and all his frame commodious

When he doth sing the woods do ring

his voice is so melodious.

O guardian angels be his guide

defend him from all harms,

Let no hard fortune him betide,

in any wars alarms.

Should he be slain on Boston plain,

where cannons roar like thunder,

Then death would ease me of my pain,

and break my heart asunder.

Although my love has cross’d the main,

’twas what he ne’er intended,

I hope to see him once again

where’er the war are ended.

When all my grief will turn to joy,

when he is in my arms,

Then I’ll invite my darling boy,

and treat him with my charms.

When rural lads and lasses gay,

Proclaim’d the birth of rosy May,

When round the maypole on the green,

The rustic dancers all were seen;