Page:Songster's garland.pdf/6

6 She gaz'd - she redden'd like a rose, Syne pale as ony lily,

She sank within my arms and cried,

Art thou my ain dear Willie ?

By Him who made yon sun and sky!

By whom true lově’s regarded ;

I am the man - and thus may still

True lovers be rewarded !

The wars are o'er, and I'm come hame,

And find thee still true hearted;

Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love,

And mair we's ne'er be parted.

Quoth she, my grandsire left me goud,

A mailen plenished fairly ;

Then come my faithfu' sodger lad

Thou’rt welcome to it dearly.

For gold the merchant ploughs the main,

The farmer ploughs the manor ;

But glory is the sodger's prize,

The sodger's wealth is honour;

The brave poor sodger ne'er despise,

Nor count him as a stranger;

Remember he's his country's stay,

In day and hour o' danger.

JOCKEY'S FAR AWA.

Now simmer decks the field wi flow'rs

The wood wi' leaves are green.