Page:Cream of Tannahill's songs (2).pdf/18

18 LANGSYNE BESIDE THE WOODLAND BURN.

LANGSYNE beside the woodland burn, Amang the broom sae yellow, I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn, On natures mossy pillow; Around my seat the flow'rs were strew'd, That frae the wildwood I had pu'd, To weave myseľ a simmer snood, To pleasure my dear fellow

I twin'd the woodbine round the rose, Its richer hues to mellow, Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose To busk the sedge sae yellow. Tho craw-flow'r blue, and meadow pink, I wove in primrose braided link, But little, little did I think, I should have wove the willow.

My bonnie lad was forced afar, Toss'd on the raging billow, Perhaps he's fa'n in bludy war, Or wrecked on rocky shallow ; Yet, aye I hope for his return, As round our wonted haunts I mourn, And aften by the woodland burn, I pu' the weeping willow.

MOLLY, MY DEAR.

The harvest is o'er, and the lads are so funny, Their hearts lined with love and their pockets with money; From morning till night, 'tis My jewel, my honey, "Och, go to the North with me, Molly, my dear!"