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8
LANGSYNE BESIDE THE WOODLAND BURN.
Langsyne beside the woodland burn,
Amang the broom sae yellow,
I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn,
On nature's mossy pillow;
Around my seat the flow'rs were strew'd,
That frae the wildwood I had pu'd,
To weave mysel' a simmer snood,
To pleasure my dear fellow.
Amang the broom sae yellow,
I lean'd me 'neath the milkwhite thorn,
On nature's mossy pillow;
Around my seat the flow'rs were strew'd,
That frae the wildwood I had pu'd,
To weave mysel' a simmer snood,
To pleasure my dear fellow.
I twin'd the woodbine round the rose,
Its richer hues to mellow,
Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose,
To busk the sedge sae yellow.
The craw-flow'r blue, and meadow-pink,
I wove in primrose braided link,
But little, little did I think,
I should have wove the willow.
Its richer hues to mellow,
Green sprigs of fragrant birk I chose,
To busk the sedge sae yellow.
The craw-flow'r blue, and meadow-pink,
I wove in primrose braided link,
But little, little did I think,
I should have wove the willow.
My bonnie lad was forced afar,
Toss'd on tho raging billow,
Perhaps he's fa’n in bloody war,
Or wrecked on rocky shallow;
Yet, aye I hopo for his return,
As round our wonted haunts I mourn,
And aften by the woodland burn,
I pu' the weeping willow.
Toss'd on tho raging billow,
Perhaps he's fa’n in bloody war,
Or wrecked on rocky shallow;
Yet, aye I hopo for his return,
As round our wonted haunts I mourn,
And aften by the woodland burn,
I pu' the weeping willow.
