The Drunken Exciseman (1)/Langsyne Beside the Woodland Burn
For other versions of this work, see Langsyne Beside the Woodland Burn.
LANGSYNE BESIDE THE WOODLAND BURN.
Langsyne beside the woodland burn,
Amang the broom sae yellow,
I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn,
On nature's mossy pillow;
Around my seat the flow'rs were strew'd,
That frae the wildwood I had pu'd,
To weave mysel' a simmer snood,
To pleasure my dear fellow.
Amang the broom sae yellow,
I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn,
On nature's mossy pillow;
Around my seat the flow'rs were strew'd,
That frae the wildwood I had pu'd,
To weave mysel' a simmer snood,
To pleasure my dear fellow.
I twin'd 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-flow'r blue, and meadow-pink,
I wove in primrose braided link,
But little, little did I think,
I should have wove the willow.
Its richer hues to mellow,
Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose,
To busk the sedge sae yellow.
The craw-flow'r 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 tho raging billow,
Perhaps he's fa’n in bloody war,
Or wrecked on rocky shallow;
Yet, aye I hopo for his return,
As round our wonted haunts I mourn,
And aften by the woodland burn,
I pu' the weeping willow.
Toss'd on tho raging billow,
Perhaps he's fa’n in bloody war,
Or wrecked on rocky shallow;
Yet, aye I hopo for his return,
As round our wonted haunts I mourn,
And aften by the woodland burn,
I pu' the weeping willow.