HE'S LIFELESS AMANG THE RUDE BILLOWS.
Air—"The Muckin' o' Geordie's Byre."
He 's lifeless amang the rude billows,
My tears and my sighs are in vain;
The heart that beat warm for his Jeanie,
Will ne'er beat for mortal again.
My lane now I am i' the warld,
And the daylight is grievous to me;
The laddie that lo'ed me sae dearly
Lies cauld in the deeps o' the sea.
Ye tempests, sae boist'rously raging,
Rage on as ye list—or be still;
This heart ye sae often hae sicken'd,
Is nae mair the sport o' your will.
Now heartless, I hope not—I fear not,—
High Heaven hae pity on me!
My soul, tho' dismay'd and distracted,
Yet bends to thy awful decree.
JOY OF MY EARLIEST DAYS.
Air—"I'll never leave thee."
Joy of my earliest days,
Why must I grieve thee?
Theme of my fondest lays,
Oh, I maun leave thee!
Leave thee, love! leave thee, love!
How shall I leave thee?
Absence thy truth will prove,
For, oh! I maun leave thee!
When on yon mossy stane,
Wild weeds o'ergrowin',
Ye sit at e'en your lane,
And hear the burn rowin';
Oh! think on this partin' hour,
Down by the Garry,
And to Him that has a' the pow'r,
Commend me, my Mary!