The Book of Scottish Song/Henry

Henry.

[James Stirrat of Dairy, Ayrshire.—Air, "Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch."—Here printed for the first time.]

Can my dearest Henry leave me?
Why, ah! why would he deceive me?
Whence this cold and cruel change,
That bids him thus forsake and grieve me?

Can he the hours of love forget,
The stolen hours I'll mind for ever,
When doun the burn we fondly met,
And aften vow'd we ne'er should sever?
Will my Henry then deceive me?
Faithless laddie! can he leave me?
Ne'er till now did fancy dream,
My dearest laddie sae would grieve me.

And will he then me aye forsake?
Must I for ever, ever lose him?
And can he leave this heart to break,
That swells and bursts within my bosom?
Never, Henry, could I leave thee,
Never could this heart deceive thee;
Why then, laddie, me forsake,
And sae wi' cruel absence grieve me?

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