70
Again the merry month o' May
Has made our hills and valleys gay;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers;
Blithe morning lifts his rosy eye,
And evening's tears are tears of joy:
My soul delightless a' surveys,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
Within yon milk white hawthorn bush
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush:
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil,
Or wi' his song her cares beguile;
But I wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days,
While Willie's far frae Logan braes.
O! wae upon you men o' state,
That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
As ye make mony a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return !
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry?
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braes !
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THE BRIDAL DAY.
Words by W. PAUL Music by J. P. CLARKE
0, I maun braid my yellow hair,
An' I maun busk me braw,
An' I maun to the greenwood gang
Whatever may befa'.
An' I maun say the word at e'en
That brings me weal or wae,
For Jamie press'd me sair yestreen,
To set the bridal day.
O little does my father think,
That he maun ware his gear:
An' little does my minnie think,
The trysting hour is near.
But yonder blinks the e'ening star,
O'er Roslyn castle gray:
An' I maun to the greenwood gang,
To name the bridal day.
