Though now he said (illegible text)thing but fare-ye-well, Lucy,
It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see;
He couldn't say mair, but just fare-ye-well Lucy-
Yet that will I mind to the day that I die.
The lamb likes the gowan we'due when its d(illegible text)
the (illegible text) likes the balie and the hands are shoke;
But Lucy likes Jamie - she turned and she (illegible text)
She thought that dear place she had never met
Oh! well may young Jamie of any (illegible text) and (illegible text)
And well maybe greet on the (illegible text) o' the barn!
His (illegible text) sweet Lucy, was gentle and peerless,
Lies (illegible text) her grace, and will never return
Lucy's (illegible text)
This admirable song is rightly ranked in the first class of our modern lyrics, its unaffected feeling and natural simplicity are all together (illegible text)able. Hogg has stated, that, with two exceptions, this is the only song or poem of any kind ever composed by the author; - and regarding such a piece of information there can exist but one statement (illegible text) the affecting little history of " Lucy's (illegible text)"
