Lament for Abercrombie/The Harper of Mull

by Robert Tannahill

For other versions of this work, see The Harper of Mull.

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THE HARPER OF MULL.

 

When Rosie was faithful, how happy was I,
Still gladsome as summer the time glided by;
I played my harp cheerie, while fondly I sang,
Of the charms of my Rosie the winter nights lang,
But now I'm as waefu' as waefu' can be,
Come simmer, come winter, 'tis a' ane to me.
For the dark gloom of falsehood sae clouds my sad soul,
That cheerless for aye is the Harper of Mull.

I wander the gleas and the wild woods alane,
In their deepest recesses I make my sad main;
My harp's mournful melody joins in the strain,
While sadly I sing of the days that are gane.
Tho' Rosie is faithless she's not the less fair,
And the thought of her beauty but feeds my despair
With painful remembrance my bosom is full,
And weary of life is the Harper of Mull.

As slumb'ring I lay by the dark mountain stream,
My lovely young Rosie appear'd in my dream;
I thought her still kind, and I ne'er was sae blest
As in fancy I clasp'd the dear nymph to my breast.
Thou false fleeting vision, too soon thou wert o'er,
Thou wak'd me to tortures unknown before,
But death's silent slumbers my griefs soon shall lull,
And the green grass wave over the Harper of Mull.