Sing on, lovely river,
To hillock and tree
A lay o' the loves
O' my Jessie and me;
For nae angel lightin',
A posie to pu',
Can match the fair form
O' the lassie I lo'e.
Sweet river, dear river,
Sing on in your glee,
In thy pure breast the mind
O' my Jessie I see.
How aft ha'e I wander'd,
As gray gloamin' fell,
Rare dreamin's o' heaven
My lassie to tell.
Sing on, lovely Devon,
The sang that ye sung
When earth in her beauty
Frae night's bosom sprung,
For lanesome and eerie
This warld aye would be
Did clouds ever fa'
Atween Jessie and me.
ANN O' CORNYLEE.
Gaelic Air—"Soraiadh slan do'un Ailleagan."
I 'll twine a gowany garland
Wi' lilies frae the spring;
The fairest flowers by Clutha's side
In a' their bloom I 'll bring.
I 'll wreath a flowery wreath to shade
My lassie's scornfu' e'e—
For oh, I canna bide the frown
O' Ann o' Cornylee.
Nae gilded ha', nae downie bed
My lowly lot maun cheer,
A sheilin' on the banks o' Gryfe
Is a' my worldly gear;
A lanely cot, wi' moss o'ergrown,
Is a' I ha'e to gie;
A leal heart, sinking 'neath the scorn
O' Ann o' Cornylee.
The linty 'mang the yellow broom,
The laverock in the lift
Ha'e never sang the waes o' love
O' hope and joy bereft;
Nor has the mavis ever sang
The ills I ha'e to dree,
For lovin' o' a paughty maid,
Fair Ann o' Cornylee.