Page:Mary of Glenkilloch.pdf/7

 The cukoo flies frae tree to tree, while safe the zephyrs blaw; But what are a’ thae joys to me when Jocky’s far awa’?

My Jocky’s far awa’ ſea, my Jocky’s far awa’; But what are a’ thae joys to me, when Jocky’s far awa’?

Last May-morning, how ſweet to see the little lambkins play! Whilst my dear lad alang wi’ me did gently wa’k that way. On yon green bank ſweet flow’rs he pou’d, to busk my bosom bra’; But what are a’ thae joys to me, for now he’s far awa’. My Jocky’s far awa’, &c.

O gentle peace return again, bring Jocky to my arms, Frae dangers on the raging main, an’ safe frae war’s alarms If e’er we meet, nae mair we’ll part, while I ha’e breath to draw; Nae mair I’ll sing wi’ aching heart. My Jocky’s far awa’, &c.