Complete Songs Of Robert Burns - online book

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	288            TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS
	IX. MISCELLANEOUS No. 307. The sun he is sunk in the west. Tune : Go from my window, love, do Scots Mus. Museum, 1803, No. 581.
	The sun he is sunk in the west, All creatures retired to rest, While here I sit, all sore beset With sorrow, grief, and woe; And it's O fickle Fortune, O! The prosperous man is asleep, Nor hears how the whirlwinds sweep ; But misery and I must watch The surly tempest blow: And it's O fickle Fortune, O! There lies the dear [partner] of my breast; Her cares for a moment at rest; Must I see thee, my youthful pride, Thus brought so very low?— And it's O fickle Fortune, O!	There lie my sweet [babies] in her arms;                               [alarms ; No anxious fear their [little] hearts But for their sake, my heart does ache, With many a bitter throe: And it's O fickle Fortune, O ! I once was by Fortune carest: I once could relieve the distrest; Now life's poor [pittance] hardly earn'd, My fate will scarce bestow ; And it's O fickle Fortune, O ! No comfort, no comfort I have! How welcome to me were the grave ! But then my wife and children dear— O, whither would they go? And it's O fickle Fortune, Ol
	O whither, O [whither] shall I turn All friendless, forsaken, forlorn ? For in this world Rest or Peace I never more shall know! And it's O fickle Fortune, O !