7
And changed my glossy raven locks,
It's left us still content;
And eild ne'er comes alane, Jean,
But aft brings mony a wo,
Yet we've nae cause for sic complant,
Jean Anderson, my jo.
In innocence we've spent our days,
And pleasant looks the past;
Nae anxious thoughts alarm us,
We'er chearful to the last:
Till Death knock at our door, Jean,
And warn us baith to go,
Contented we will live and love,
Jean Anderson, my jo.
It's now a lang, lang time, Jean,
Since you and I begun
To sprachel up life's hill, Jean,
Our race is nearly run;
We baith hae done our best, Jean,
Our sun is wearing low:
Sae let us quietly sink to rest,
Jean Anderson, my jo.
MARIA.
'Twas near a thicket's calm retreat,
Under a poplar tree,
Maria chose her lonely seat,
To mourn her sorrows free.
