3
O what is't that pits my poor heart in a flutter!
And what gars the tear come sae fast to my ee!
If I was na ettled to be onie better,
Thea what gars me wish onie better to be!
I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither;
Nor mither nor friend the poor lammie can see;
I fear I kae left my bit heart a' thegither,
Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee.
Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae rowd up the ribbon,
The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me:
Yestreen when he gae me t, and saw I was sabbin;
I'll never forget the wae bink o' his ee.
Tho' now, he said naething, but Fare ye weel, Lucy,
It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see;
He could na say mair, but just Fare ye weel, Lucy,
Yet that I will mind to the day that I die.
The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when its droukit,
The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lee;
But Lucy likes Jamie;—she turned—she lookit;
She thought the dear place she wad never mair see.
Ah weal may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless!
