As I stood by yonroofless tower, Where the wa'flow'r scents the dery air, Where the howletmourns in her ivy bower, And tells the midnight moon her care. Chorus-A lassie all alone, was making her moan, Lamenting our lads beyond the sea: In the bluidywars they fa', and our honour's ganean'a', And broken-hearted we maundie. The
Sleep'st thou, or wak'st thou, fairest creature? Rosy morn now lifts his eye, Numbering ilka bud which Nature Waters wi' the tears o' joy. Now, to the streaming fountain, Orup the heathy mountain, The hart, hind, and roe, freely, wildly-wanton stray; In twining hazel bowers, Its lay the linnet pours, The laverockto the sky Ascends,
The lovely lass o'Inverness, Naejoy nor pleasure can she see; For, e'ento morn she cries, alas! And aye the sauttear blin's her e'e. "Drumossie moor, Drumossie day- A waefu' day it was to me! For there I lost my father dear, My father dear, and brethren three. "Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, Their graves are
Hee balou, my sweet weeDonald, Picture o' the great Clanronald; Brawliekens our wanton Chief Whagatmy young Highland thief. Leeze me onthy boniecraigie, An'thou live, thou'll steal a naigie, Travel the country thro' and thro', And bring hame a Carlisle cow. Thro' the Lawlands, o'er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder! Herrythe louns o'the
Here is the glen, and here the bower All underneath the birchen shade; The village-bell has told the hour, O what can stay my lovely maid? 'Tis not Maria's whispering call; 'Tis butthe balmy breathing gale, Mixt with some warbler's dying fall, The dewy star of eve to hail. It is Maria's voice I hear;
It was the charming month of May, When all the flow'rs were fresh and gay. One morning, by the break of day, The youthful, charming Chloe- From peaceful slumber she arose, Girton her mantle and her hose, And o'er the flow'ry mead she goes- The youthful, charming Chloe. Chorus.-Lovely was she by the dawn, Youthful
Sae flaxen were her ringlets, Her eyebrows of a darker hue, Bewitchingly o'er-arching Twalaughing e'eno' lovely blue; Her smiling, sae wyling. Wad make a wretch forget his woe; What pleasure, what treasure, Unto these rosy lips to grow! Such was my Chloris' bonie face, When first that bonieface I saw; And aye my Chloris' dearest