THE BANKS OF THE DEVON.
How pleasant the banks of clear winding Devon,
With green spreading bushes and flowers blooming fair!
But the bonniest flow’r on the banks of the Devon,
Was ance a sweet bud as the braes of the Ayr.
Mild be the sun-on this sweet blushing flower,
In the gay rosy morn as it bathes in the dew,
And gentle the fall of the soft vernal shower,
That steals on the evening each leaf to renew.
O spare the dear blossom, ye orient breezes,
With chill hoary wing as ye usher the dawn,
And far be thou distant, thou reptile that seizes,
The verdure and pride of the garden and law
Let Bourboun exult in her gay gilded lilies
And England triumphant display her proud Rose
A fairer than either adorn the green valleys,
Where Devon, sweet Devon meandering flows.
THE LAND THE LEEL
I’m warring awa, Jean,
