Clutha, wi' truest love I love thee, Jean/Clutha

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C L U T H A.

Tune—Miss Admiral Gordon's Strathspey.

 

O Clutha! wild thy banks appear,
And saft thy waters glide,
And lasses, kind, and blythe, and fair
Adorn thy wooded side.
They ken na me, they lo'e na me,
Tho' a' sae sweet and gay;
Fu' blythe they be, and kythe they be,
But I am doylt and wae.

How touching saft the gloamin's gleam,
On tufted knowe and fell,
When o'er the brae the sunnie beam
Sae mildly glints farewell.
When dusky vapours slowly row,
Alang the waveless tide,
And gathrin' cluds o' leaden hue,
Hang on the mountain's side.

Tho' placid be the closin' scene
A gloamin's silent hour,
Around my breast nae rays serene
The joys o' e'enin pour;
A' things are gay, but l am wae,
They smile, but I repine;
Ilk lover's near his lassie dear—
But am far frae mine.

Thou awful spirit o' the floods,
That scoop'd wide Clutha's vale,
That flower'd her fields, and rear'd her woods,
And bade her spread the sail!
O gie her sons and daughters peace,
And freedom, health, and joy:
And ne'er let fate blight present bliss,
Nor soothing hope destroy.

For me, I'll wander where I list,
Dark as the wintry storm;
Nae friend shall sooth my bleeding breast,
Nae love my sorrow charm.—
I hae a love, but that sweet love
Wears cauldness in her ee;
I hae a love, but that sweet love
Will never love like me.