Page:Legacy.pdf/7

7 On yon green bank wild flow's he pou'd,

to busk my bosom braw;

Sweet, sweet he talk'd; and aft he vow'd;

but now he's far awa,

But now, &c.

O gentle peace return again,

bring Jo key to my arms,

Frae dangers on the raging main,

frae cruel war's alarms

Gin e'er we meer, nae mair we'll part

as lang's we've breath to draw;

Nae mair I'll sing, wi' aching heart,

my Jockey's far awa.

My Jockey's, &c.

❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈❈

GUDE FORGI'E ME FOR LIEN'.

Ae day a braw wooer came down the lang glen,

An' sair wi' his love he did deave me;

But I said, there was naething I hated like men,

But O! what a fool to believe me.

A well stocket mailen, himsel' for the laird,

A bridal aff hand was the proffer,

I never loot on that I kent it, or car'd;

But thought I might get a waur offer.