Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Adieu for Evermore

Adieu for Evermore.

It was a' for our richtfu' king We left fair Scotland's strand;It was a' for our richtfu' king We e'er saw Irish land, my dear,We e'er saw Irish land.

Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain:My love, my native land, farewell; For I maun cross the main, my dear,  For I maun cross the main.

He turned him richt and round about Upon the Irish shore,And ga'e his bridle-reins a shake, With, Adieu for evermore, my love,  With, Adieu for evermore.

The soldier frae the war returns, The sailor frae the main;But I hae parted frae my love, Never to meet again, my love,  Never to meet again.

When day is gane, and nicht is come, And a' folk bound to sleep,I think on him that's far awa' The lee-lang night, and weep, my dear,  The lee-lang night, and weep.