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The Song Book |
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My father argu'd sair; my mother did na speak, Bat she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break, Sae I gae him my hand, though my heart was i' the sea; And auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me.
I had na been a wife a week but only four, When sitting sae mournfully at the door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I cou'd na think it he, Till he said, I'm come hame, for to marry thee.
O sair did we greet, and muckle did we say, We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away.
1 wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to die ; And why do I live to say, Wae's me ?
I gang like a ghaist, and I care na to spin,
I dare na think on Jamie, for that would be a sin ;
But I'll e'en do my best a gude wife to be,
For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me.
The Words by Lady Anne Barnard, tune The Bridegroom grat.
CLXXXVII
THERE'S NONE TO SOOTHE |
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The voice of joy no more can cheer, The look of love no more can warm,
Since mute for aye's that voice so dear, And clos'd that eye alone could charm.
From The Scottish Minstrel. |
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