4
And she has ta'en a long journey,
for seven lang years and mair my dear.
for seven lang years and mair.
Sometimes she rade sometimes she gaed,
sometimes sat down to moure,
And it was aye the o'ercome her tale,
shall I e'er see my bonny laddie come,
shall I e'er see my bonny laddia come?
The trooper turned himself round about,
all on the Irish shore;
He has gi'en the bridle reins a shake,
saying adieu for evermore, my dear,
saying adieu for evermore.
HER BLUE ROLLIN' E'E.
My lassie is lovely at May-dew adorning,
Wi' gowans and primroscs ilka green lea,
Tho' sweet is the violet new blown in the morn:
As tender and sweet is her blue rollin'ee.
O say what is whiter than snow on the mountain
Or what wi' the red rose in beauty can vie?
Yes whiter her bosom than snow on the mountain
And bonny her face as the red rose can be?
