So taking thy sight is,
My joy, that so light is,
To view thee, by pailfuls runs out of my eyes.
While here I remain my life's not worth a farthing,
While here I remain my life's not worth a farthing,
Ah! hard-hearted Lewy,
Why did I come to ye?
The gallows, more kind, would have saved me from starving.
RECITATIVE.
Upon the ground hard by poor Sawney sate,