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Yet now she scornful flees the plain,
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet, she shews disdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush blooms fair in May,
Its sweets I'll aye remember;
'But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.
The fields we then frequented;
If e'er we meet, she shews disdain,
She looks as ne'er acquainted.
The bonny bush blooms fair in May,
Its sweets I'll aye remember;
'But now her frowns make it decay,
It fades as in December.
Ye rural powers, who hear my strains.
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains.
Then let her smiles relieve me:
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.
Why thus should Peggy grieve me?
Oh! make her partner in my pains.
Then let her smiles relieve me:
If not, my love will turn despair,
My passion no more tender;
I'll leave the bush aboon Traquair,
To lonely wilds I'll wander.
The Turtle Dove.
O fare you well my own true-love,
O farewel for a while;
But I'll be sure to return back again,
If I go ten thousand miles, my dear,
If I go ten thousand miles.
O farewel for a while;
But I'll be sure to return back again,
If I go ten thousand miles, my dear,
If I go ten thousand miles.
Ten thousand miles is a long way,
When you are from me gone,
You'll leave me here to lament and cry,
But you ne'er can hear my moan.
When you are from me gone,
You'll leave me here to lament and cry,
But you ne'er can hear my moan.
