Farewell! I'd rather launch my bark Upon the angry ocean billow, 'Mid wintry winds, and tempests dark, Than make thy faithless breast my pillow. Thy broken vow now cannot bind, Thy streaming tears no more can move me, And thus I turn from thee, to find A heart that may more truly love me.
My soul is ever with thee, My thoughts are ever with thee, As the flower to the sun, as the lamb to the lea, So turns my fond spirit to thee.
'Mid the cares of the lingering day, When troubles around me be, Fond Fancy for aye will be flitting away-- Away, my beloved, to thee.
When the night-pall darkly spread O'er shadows, tower, and tree, Then the visions of my restless bed Are all, my beloved, of thee.
When I greet the morning beams, When the midnight star I see, Alone--in crowded halls--my dreams-- My dreams are for ever of thee.
As spring to the leafless spray, As calm to the surging sea, To the weary, rest--to the watcher, day-- So art thou, loved Mary, to me.
Dear Aunty, what think ye o' auld Johnny Graham? The carle sae pawkie an' slee! He wants a bit wifie to tend his bein hame, An' the body has ettled at me.
Wi' bonnet sae vaunty, an owerlay sae clean, An' ribbon that waved 'boon his bree, He cam' doun the cleugh at the gloamin' yestreen, An' rappit, an' soon speert for me.
I bade him come ben whare my minny sae thrang Was birlin' her wheel eidentlie, An', foul fa' the carle, he was na' that lang, Ere he tauld out his errand to me.
"Hech, Tibby, lass! a' yon braid acres o' land, Wi' ripe craps that wave bonnilie, An' meikle mair gear shall be at yer command, Gin' ye will look kindly on me.
"Yon herd o' fat owsen that rout i' the glen, Sax naigies that nibble the lea; The kye i' the sheugh, and the sheep i' the pen, I'se gie a', dear Tibby, to thee.
"An', lassie, I've goupins o' gowd in a stockin', An' pearlin's wad dazzle yer e'e; A mettl'd, but canny young yaud, for the yokin', When ye wad gae jauntin' wi' me.
"I 'll hap ye, and fend ye, and busk ye, and tend ye, And mak' ye the licht o' my e'e; I 'll comfort and cheer ye, and daut ye and dear ye, As couthy as couthy can be.
"I 've lo'ed ye, dear lassie, since first, a bit bairn, Ye ran up the knowe to meet me; An' deckit my bonnet wi' blue bells an' fern, Wi' meikle glad laughin' an' glee.