How eerily, how drearily.
[William Glen.]
How eerily, how drearily, how wearily to pine,
When my love's in a foreign land, far frae thae arms o' mine,
Three years ha'e come an' gane sin' first he said to me,
That he wad stay at hame wi' Jean, wi' her to live and die;
The day comes in wi' sorrow now, the night is wild and drear,
An' every hour that passeth by, I water wi' a tear.
I kiss my bonnie baby, I clasp it to my breast,
Ah! aft wi' sic a warm embrace its father hath me prest!
And whan I gaze upon its face, as it lies upon my knee,
The crystal draps out owre my cheeks will fa' frae ilka e'e,
O! mony a mony a burning tear upon its face will fa',
For oh! it's like my bonnie love, an' he is far awa'.
Whan the spring-time had gane by and the rose began to blaw,
An' the harebell an' the violet adorn'd ilk bonnie shaw,
'Twas then my love cam' courtin' me, and wan my youthfu' heart,
An' mony a tear it cost my love, ere he could frae me part,
But though he's in a foreign land, far far across the sea,
I ken my Jamie's guileless heart is faithfu' unto me.
Ye wastlin' win's upon the main, blaw wi' a steady breeze,
And waft my Jamie hame again across the roarin' seas,
O! when he clasps me in his arms, in a' his manly pride,
I'll ne'er exchange that ae embrace for a' the world beside.
Then blow a steady gale, ye win's, waft him across the sea,
And bring my Jamie hame again to his wee bairn and me.
Jeanie Graham.
[James Macdonald.—Here first printed.]
Oh! Jeanie Graham, oh! Jeanie Graham, thou'rt dearer far to me
Than summer to a weary soul upon a wintry sea;
Thy walk is like a silver clud abune the deep green hills,
Thy voice is sweeter than the sang o' bonnie leesome rills,
The melody o' life an' love dwalls in that heart o' thine;
Oh! what a prince of joy were I, if, Jeanie, thou wert mine!
Oh! Jeanie Graham, thy very name is music to my ear,
Thy lightsome step, thy merry laugh, thine e'e sae bright and clear,
As dew drops on the hawthorn tree, around my heart still hang,
An', like the haly pillar cloud, they float where'er I gang:
Oh! joy dwell in your bonnie briest wharever you may be!
The very Kebla of my soul thou wert and art to me.
