The Sentimental Songster/The Harper of Mull
THE HARPER OF MULL.
When Rosie was faithfu’, how happy was I,
Still gladsome as summer the time glided by,
I played my harp cheery, while fondly I sang
Of the charms o’ my Rosie the winter nights lang.
But now I’m as waefu’ as waefu’ can be,
Come summer, come winter, ’tis a’ ane to me,
For the dark gloom of falsehood sae clouds my sad (illegible text)
That cheerless for aye is the Harper of Mull.
I wander the glens and the wild woods alane,
In their deepest recesses I make my sad mane,
My harp’s mournfu’ melody joins in the strain,
While sadly I sing of the days that are gane.
Tho’ Rosie is faithless, she’s nae the less fair,
The thought of her beauty but feeds my despair
With painful remembrance my bosom is full,
And weary of life is the Harper of Mull.
As slumb’ring I lay by the dark mountain stream
My lovely young Rosie appear’d in my dream;
I thought her still kind, and I ne’er was sae blest,
As in fancy I clasp’d the dear nymph to my breast.
Thou false fleeting vision, too soon thou wert o’er;
Thou waked’st me to tortures unequalled before;
But death’s silent slumbers my griefs soon shall lull,
And the green grass wave over the Harper of Mull.