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SONGS FOR GIRLHOOD.                                                          131
Aud on her parting lips it plays; oh! how they
crowd to hear The words that will be iron chains to bind them
to her prayer:
" Father, dear father, it is hard to die so very
young; Summer was coming, and I thought to see the
flowers sprung. Must it be always dark like this ? I can not see
thy face� I am dyiug ; hold me, father, in thy kiud and close
embrace. Oh, let them sometimes bear me where the merry
sunbeams lie! I know thou wilt. Farewell, farewell! 'Tis easier
now to die!"
Small need of bearded leeches there; not all Ara�bia's store
Of precious balm could purchase her one ray of sunlight more.
Was it strange that tears were glistening where tears should never be,
When death had smitten down to dust the beauti�ful and free ?
Was it strange that warriors should raise a wom�an's earnest cry
For help and hope to heaven's throne, when such as she must die ?
And ever when the shining sun has brought the
summer round, Aud the Nile rises fast and full along the thirsty
ground, They bear her from her silent home to where the
gay sunlight May linger on the hollow eyes that once were
starry bright, And strew sweet flowers upon her breast; while
gray-haired matrons tell Of the high Egyptian maiden-queen that loved the
light so well!
There's nae sorrow there, Jean ; There's neither cauld nor care, Jean ; The day is aye fair, Jean, In the land o' the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean ; Your task's ended noo, Jean ; And I'll welcome you
To the land o' the leal.
Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean ; She was baith gude and fair, Jean; Aud we grudged her right sair To the land o' the leal.
Then dry that tearful e'e, Jean ; My soul langs to be free, Jean ; And angels wait on me
To the land o' the leal.
Now, fare ye weel, my ain Jean ; This warld's care is vain, Jean ; We'll meet, and aye be fain, In the land o' the leal.
Professor Shairp.
Will ye gang wi' me and fare To the bush aboon Traquair ?
Owre the high Minchmuir we'll up and awa', This bonny simmer noon, While the sun shines fair aboon,
And the licht sklents saftly down on holm and ha'
And what wad ye do there,
At the bush aboon Traquair? A lang dreich road, ye had better let it be;
Save some auld scrunts o' birk
I' the hill-side lirk, There's nocht i' the warld for man to see.
But the blithe lilt o' that air, " The bush aboon Traquair,"
I need nae mair�it is eneuch for me;
Owre my cradle its sweet chime Cam' sighing frae auld time;
Sae, tide what may, I'll awa' and see.
Aud what saw ye there,
At the bush aboon Traquair?
I'm wearin' awa', Jean,
Like snaw when it's thaw, Jean,
I'm wearin' awa', Jean,
To the land o' the leal.

E-Book - An Annotated Compendium of Old Time American Songs by James Alverson III