The Book of Scottish Song/Oh, take me to yon sunny isle

Oh, take me to yon sunny isle.

[Robert Gilfillan—Music by J. Satchell.]

Oh! take me to yon sunny isle that stands in Fortha's sea,
For there, all lonely, I may weep, since tears my lot must be;
The cavern'd rocks alone shall hear my anguish and my woe,
But can their echoes Mary bring? ah! no, no, no!

I'll wander by the silent shore, or climb the rocky steep,
And list to ocean murmuring the music of the deep;
But when the soft moon lights the waves in evening's silver glow,
Shall Mary meet me 'neath its light? ah! no, no, no!

I'll speak of her to every flower, and lovely flowers are there,
They'll may be bow their heads and weep, for she, like them, was fair,—
And every bird I'll teach a song, a plaintive song of woe,
But Mary cannot hear their strains?—ah! no, no, no!

Slow steals the sun a-down the sky, as loth to part with day,
But airy morn with carolling voice shall wake him forth as gay;
Yet Mary's sun rose bright and fair, and now that sun is low,
Shall its fair beam e'er grace the morn? ah! no, no, no!

But I must shed the hidden tear, lest Mary mark my care:
The stifling groan may break my heart, but it shall linger there!
I'll even feign the outward smile, to hide my inward woe,
I would not have her weep in heaven—ah! no, no, no!

---