“Oh! wert thou in the cauld, cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea;
My plaidie to the angry airt,[69]
I’d shelter thee, I’d shelter thee.
Or did misfortune’s bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw;
Thy bield[70] should be my bosom,
To share it a’, to share it a’.
“Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black an’ bare, sae black and bare;
The desert were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there:
Or were I monarch of the globe,
Wi’ thee to reign, wi’ thee to reign;
The brightest jewel in my crown
Should be my queen, should be my queen.”
The Colonel having bestowed not undeserved praise upon the taste and feeling with which Jessie had sung her simple melody, added, “Yet I do not remember these words among the songs of the Ayrshire bard. Lucy, you have often read to me from the volume of his poems which came from England; do you recollect having seen this song amongst them?”