The Book of Scottish Song/The Lass o' Carron side

The Lass o' Carron side.

[C. J. Finlayson.—Here first printed.]

Oh! whar will I gae find a place
To close my sleepless een,
And whar will I gae seek the peace
I witless tint yestreen?
My heart that wont to dance as licht
As moonshine o'er the tide,
Now pines in thrall by luckless love
For the lass o' Carron side.

She sat the Goddess of the stream
That murmur'd at her feet,
And aye she sung her artless sang
Wi' a voice unearthly sweet;
Sae sweet,—the birds that wont to wake
The morn wi' glee and pride,
Sat mute, to hear the witching strain
O' the lass o' Carron side.

Sair may I rue my reckless haste,
Sair may I ban the hour,
That lur'd me frae my peacefu' cot
Within the Siren's power,
Oh! had she sprung frae humble race
As she's frae ane o' pride,
I might ha'e dreed a better weird
Wi' the lass o' Carron side.

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