The Book of Scottish Song/Langsyne, beside

Langsyne, beside.

[Written by Tannahill.—Set to music by R. A. Smith.]

Langsyne, beside the woodland burn,
Amang the broom sae yellow,
I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn,
On nature's mossy pillow;
A' 'round my seat the flowers were strew'd,
That frae the wildwood I had pu'd,
To weave mysel' a simmer snood,
To pleasure my dear fellow.

I twined the woodbine round the rose,
Its richer hues to mellow,
Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose,
To busk the sedge sae yellow.
The craw-flower blue, and meadow-pink,
I wove in primrose-braided link,
But little, little did I think,
I should have wove the willow.

My bonnie lad was forced afar,
Toss'd on the raging billow,
Perhaps he's fa'n in bluidy war,
Or wreck'd on rocky shallow;
Yet aye I hope for his return,
As round our wonted haunts I mourn,
And aften by the woodland burn,
I pu' the weeping willow.

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