The Book of Scottish Song/The Rover o' Lochryan
The Rover o' Lochryan.
[Hugh Ainslie.—Set to music by R. A. Smith.]
The Rover o' Lochryan, he's gane
Wi' his merry men sae brave;
Their hearts are o' the steel, an' a better keel
Ne'er bowl'd owre the back o' a wave.
It's no when the loch lies dead in its trough,
When naething disturbs it ava;
But the rack, an' the ride o' the restless side
Or the splash o' the grey sea-maw.
It's no when the yawl an' the light skiffs crawl
Owre the breast o' the siller sea,
That I look to the west for the bark I lo'e best,
An' the Rover that's dear to me.
But when that the clud lays its cheeks to the flud,
An' the sea lays its shouther to the shore;
When the win' sings high, an' the sea-whaups cry
As they rise frae the whitening roar.
It's then that I look to the thickening rook,
An' watch by the midnight tide;
I ken the wind brings my rover hame,
An' the sea that he glories to ride.
O merry he sits 'mang his jovial crew
Wi' the helm-heft in his hand,
An' he sings aloud to his boys in blue,
As his e'e's upon Galloway's land—
"Unstent an' slack each reef and tack,
Gi'e her sail, boys, while it may sit;
She has roar'd through a heavier sea afore,
An' she'll roar through a heavier yet.
When landsmen sleep, or wake an' creep,
In the tempest's angry moan,
We dash through the drift, and sing to the lift
O' the wave, that heaves us on."