Page:Songster's garland.pdf/20

20 'Twas not her golden ringlets bright

Her lips like roses wet wi' dew'

Her heaving bosom lily white,

It was her een sae bonnie blue.

She talk’d, she smiled, my heart she wil'd,

She charm'd my soul I watna how,

An' aye the stound, the deadly wound,

Cam frae her een sae bonnie blue.

But spare I'll speak, an spare I'll speed,

She aiblins listen to my vow;

Should she refuse, l'll lay my dead

To her twa een sae bonnie blue.

THE MINUTE GUN.

When in the storm on Albion's coast,

The night-watch guards his wary post,

From thoughts of danger free;

He marks some vessel's dusky form,

And hears amid some howling storm,

The minute gun at sea.

Swift on the shore a hardy few,

The life-boat man with a gallant crew,

And dare the dangerous wave;

Through the wild surf they cleave their way,

Lost in the foam, nor know dismay,

For they go the crew to save.