4
And she has ta'en a long journey,
for seven lang years and mair, my dear,
For seven lang years and mair.
Sometimes the rade, sometimes she gaed,
Sometimes sat down to mourn
And it was aye the o'ercome o' her tale,
Shall I e'er see my bonny laddie come.
The trooper turned himself round about,
all on the Irish shore,
He has gi'en on the bridle reins a shake,
saying adieu for evermore, my dear,
Saying adieu for evermore.
HER BLUE ROLLIN' E'E
My lassie is lovely as May-dew adorning,
Wi' gowans and primroses ilka green lea,
Tho' sweet is the violet new blown in the morning,
As tender and sweet is her blue ⟨rollin'⟩ ee.
O say what is whiter than snow on the mountain,
Or what wi' the red-rose in beauty can vie?
Yes whiter her bosom than snow on the mountain,
And bonny her face as the red-rose can be.
