The Book of Scottish Song/The Unhappy Father

The Unhappy Father.

[Alexander Laing.]

Ah! lassie, I think wi' a sair broken heart,
On the licht happy time that's awa';
When smiling ye sat on your fond mither's knee,
An' prattl'd an' lisped—"mamma,"—
On the blythe happy days when ye play'd on the green,
An' when I unyoked my team:
How ye left a' your play-things an' totter'd an' ran,
An' met me at e'en coming hame.

O, then I was happy, an' fond were the hopes
Affection sae feelingly drew;
The fears o' the future that vext me at times,
A' fled when I thocht upon you:
I thocht gin I liv'd to be helpless an' auld,
Gin second childhood I should see—
Should providence spare, I had ane growin' up,
Wad then be a parent to me.

I taught you betimes, as a father should do,
The path o' true virtue to prize;
An' as far as I could, wi' the precepts I gave,
I gave you example likewise;
An' duly at morning an' evening I pray'd,
That gudeness wad aye be your guide—
But ye've chosen to walk i' your ain wilfu' ways,
And the blessing has yet been denied.

Ye've left me to see that I've rested my hopes,
On the perishing faith of a dream;
The dawn o' your promise—the day-spring o' life,
Ye've clouded wi' sin an' wi' shame.
Oh! lassie, I think wi' a sair broken heart,
On the licht happy time that's awa';
When smiling ye sat on your fond mither's knee,
An' prattl'd an' lisped—"mamma!"

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