But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him,
Blest peace may restore my dear shepherd to me;
And when he returns, with such care I'll watch o'er him,
He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.
The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying,
The lambs on its banks shall again be seen playing,
While I with my Jamie am carelessly straying,
And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.
Merry may the keel row.
[From Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, London, 1810.]
As I cam' doun the Cannogate,
The Cannogate, the Cannogate,
As I cam' doun the Cannogate,
I heard a lassie sing, O:
Merry may the keel rowe,
The keel rowe, the keel rowe,
Merry may the keel rowe,
The ship that my love's in, O!
My love has breath o' roses,
O' roses, o' roses,
Wi' arms o' lily posies,
To fauld a lassie in, O!
Merry may, &c.
My love he wears a bonnet,
A bonnet, a bonnet,
A snawy rose upon it,
A dimple on his chin, O!
Merry may, &c.
My ain Countrie.
[Written by Allan Cunningham. A fragment of this was contributed to Cromek's Remains as an old Jacobite production.]
The sun rises bright in France,
And fair sets he;
But he has tint the blythe blink he had
In my ain countrie.
O! gladness comes to many,
But sorrow comes to me,
As I look o'er the wide ocean
To my ain countrie.
O! it's no my ain ruin
That saddens aye my e'e
But the love I left in Galloway,
Wi' bonnie bairns three;
My hamely hearth burnt bonnie,
And smiled my fair Marie:
I've left my heart behind me,
In my ain countrie.
The bud comes back to summer,
And the blossom to the tree,
But I win back—oh, never,
To my ain countrie.
I'm leal to the high heaven,
Which will be leal to me;
And there I'll meet ye a' sune,
Frae my ain countrie.
Lochaber.
[Written by Allan Ramsay to the tune of "Lochaber no more." It appears in the 2d vol. of the Tea Table Miscellany, and also with the music in the Orpheus Caledonius, 1725. The air at an earlier period is said to have been called "King James's march to Ireland."]
Farewell to Lochaber, farewell to my Jean,
Where heartsome wi' her I ha'e mony a day been;
To Lochaber no more, to Lochaber no more,
We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more.
These tears that I shed, they're a' for my dear,
And no for the dangers attending on weir;
Though borne on rough seas to a far bloody shore,
Maybe to return to Lochaber no more!
Though hurricanes rise, though rise every wind,
No tempest can equal the storm in my mind;
Though loudest of thunders on louder waves roar,
There's naething like leavin' my love on the shore.
To leave thee behind me my heart is sair pain'd;
But by ease that's inglorious no fame can be gain'd:
And beauty and love's the reward of the brave;
And I maun deserve it before I can crave.
Then glory, my Jeanie, maun plead my excuse;
Since honour commands me, how can I refuse?
Without it, I ne'er can have merit for thee;
And losing thy favour I'd better not be.
I gae then, my lass, to win honour and fame;
And if I should chance to come glorious hame,
I'll bring a heart to thee with love running o'er,
And then I'll leave thee and Lochaber no more.
