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THE FRIEND THAT'S AWA.

The winter sat lang on the spring o' the year,

Our seed time was late, and our mailin was dear

My mither tint heart when she look'd on us a',

And we thought upon them that were farest awa.

O! were they but here that are farest awa!

O! were they but here that are dear to us a'!

Our cares wou'd seem light, and our sorrows but sma',

If they were but here that are far frae us a'.

Last week, when our hopes were o'erclouded wi' fear,

And nae ane at hame the dull prospect to cheer;

Our Johnnie has written frae far awa parts,

A letter that lightens and hauds up our hearts.

He says, "My dear mither, tho' I be awa,

In love and affection I'm still wi' ye a';

While I hae a being yese aye hae a ha',

Wi' plenty to keep out the frost and the snaw."

My mither o'erjoyed at this change in her state,

By the bairn that she on early and late,