May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain! own
HOW LANG AND DREARY
How lang and dreary is the night.
When I am frae my dearie!
I restless lie frae e'en to morn,
Tho' I were ne'er sae weary.
For O, her lanely nights are lang;
And O, her dreams are eerie; fearful
And O, her widow'd heart is sair, sore