Page:Six favourite songs (1).pdf/8

 Cold was the night-breeze that sigh’d round her bower,

It chill’d my poor Kathleen, she droop’d from that hour,

And I lost my poor Kathleen, my own little Kathleen,

my Kathleen, O.

The bird of all birds that I love the best,

Is the Robin that in the churchyard builds his nest,

For he seems to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on Kathleen,

my Kathleen, O.

Doun whare the burnie rins wimpling and cheery,

When love’s star was smilling, I met with my dearie;

Ah, vain was it smiling, she wadna believe me,

But cried wi’ a saucy air, laddie, oh leave me.

I’ve lo’ed thee o’er truly to seek a new dearie,

I’ve lo’ed thee o’er fondly thro’ life ere to weary,

I’ve lo’ed thee o'er lang dear, at last to deceive thee,

Look cauldly or kindly, but bid me not leave thee.

There’s nae ither saft e’e that fills me wi’ pleasure,

There’s nae ither rose lip has half o’ its treasure,

There’s nae ither love-bower shall ever receive me,

Till death break this fond heart—oh then maun I leave thee.

The tears o’er her cheeks ran like dew from red roses,

What hope to the lover a tear-drop discloses—

I kiss’d them, and blest her at last to receive me,

Till, prest to my heart, she sigh’d, oh never leave me.