The Lass o' Ballochmyle (1823, Glasgow)/Auld Rob Morris
For other versions of this work, see Auld Rob Morris.
AULD ROB MORRIS.
There's auld Rob Morris that wons in yon glen, He's the king o' gude fellows and wale o' auld men; He has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine, And ae bonny lassie, his darling and mine.
She's fresh as the morning, the fairest in May;She's sweet as the e'ning among the new hay;As blithe and as artless as the lamb on the lea,And dear to my heart as the light to my ee.
But O she's an heiress, auld Robin's a laird,And my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;A wooer like mauna hope to come speed,The wounds I must hide that will soon be my dead.
The day comes to me, but delight brings me nane;The night comes to me, but my rest it is gane;I wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,And I sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.
O, had she but been of lower degree,I then might hae hop'd she wad smile upon me! O how past descriving had then been my bliss.As now my distraction no words can express.