Page:Lass wi' the twa-handed wheel.pdf/5

 He may sigh to the winds,

By the great mount Diana,

With his eyes o’er the waves

That surrounds St. Helena.

Now Lousiana weeps

For her husband departed;

She dreams while she sleeps,

And she wakes broken-hearted:

Not a friend to condole,

Even those that might, they winna;

Now she mourns while she thinks

On the Isle St. Helena.

The rude rushing waves

A’ our shores round are washing,

And the great billows heaves

A’ the wild rocks a-dashing;

He may look upon the mon,

And think on Lousiana,

With his heart full of woe,

On the Isle St. Helena.

Now you that have great wealth,

Be aware of ambition;

For some decree of fate

Soon may change your condition;