Page:Melodist.pdf/46

46

Frae foreign fields, my lovely youth,
Haste to thy longing lassie,
Who pants to kiss thy balmy mouth,
And in her bosom press thee:
Love gives the word, then haste on board,
Fair wind and gentle boatman,
Waft o’er, waft o’er, from yonder shore,
My blyth, my bonny Scotman.

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TAM GLEN.

My heart is a-breaking, dear Titty,
Some counsel unto me now len’,
To anger them a’ is a pity.
But what will I do wi’ Tam Glen?
I'm thinking wi‘ sic a braw fellow,
In poortith I might mak a feu';
What care I in riches to wallow,
If I manna marry Tam Glen?

There's Laurie the Laird o' Drumpeller,
Glide day ta—ye then comes ben;
He brags and be blaws o‘ his siller,
But whan will he dance like Tam Glen?
My mither she constantly deeves me,
And bids me beware o' young men;
They‘ll flatter, she says, to deceive me,
But wha wad think sae o‘ Tam Glen?

My daddy says, Gin I'll forsake him,
He‘ll gie me gude hundred merks ten;
But if ‘tis ordain'd I‘m to take him;
Wha else can I get but Tam Glen?