Scottish glory/Crazy Jane
CRAZY JANE.
Why, fair maid, in every feature,
Are such signs of fear express'd:
Can a wand'ring, wretched creature,
With such terror fill thy breast;
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee?
Trust me, sweet, they are but vain:
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee;
Shun not then poor crazy Jane.
Dost thou weep to see my anguish?
Mark me, and avoid my woe;
When men flatter, sigh, and languish,
Think them false—I found them so.
For I lov'd—ah! so sincerely,
None could ever love again;
But the youth I lov'd so dearly,
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane.
Fondly my young heart receiv'd him,
Which was doom'd to love but one;
He sigh'd—he vow'd—and I believ'd him,
He was false—and I undone.
From that hour has reason never
Held her empire o'er my brain;
Henry fled-With him for ever
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane.
Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
And with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where first we met,
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty;
Still I slowly pace the plain;
While each passer-by, in pity,
Cries, God help thee, Crazy Jane.