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Deserted by the wanning moon, When skies proclaim Night’s chearless noon, On tower, fort, or tented ground. The sentry walks his lonely round, And should some haply stray Where Caution marks the guarded way, Who goes there? Stranger, quickly tell A friend— the word, good-night, all’s well.

Or sailing on the midnight deep, While weary mess-mates soundly sleep, The careful watch patroles the deck, To guard the ship from foes or wreck; And while his thoughts oft homeward veer, Some friendly voice salutes his ear, What cheer: Brother, quickly tell, Above, below, good-night all's well.

Sun had gane o’er the lofty Benlomond, and left the red clouds to preside o’er the scene, While lanely I stray’d in a calm simmer gloamin’ to muse on sweet Jessy the flow’r o’ Dumblane. How sweet is the brier wi’ its saft faulding blossom and sweet is the birk wi’ its mantle o’ green; Yet sweeter and fairer, an’ dear to this bosom is lovely young Jessy the flow’r o’ Dumblane.

She’s modest as ony, and blythe as she’s bonny,