FAREWELL TO ABERFOYLE.
My tortured bosom shall feel
The pangs of the last sad farewell:
Far, far to foreign lands I stray,
"To spend the hours in deepest wae.
Farewell my dear and native soil,
Farewell, the braes o' Aberfoyle.
And fare ye well my winsome love,
Into whatever lands I rove,
Thou'lt claim the deepest, dearest sigh,
The warmest tear e'er wet my eye;
And when I'm wand'ring many mile,
I'll think on Kate o' Aberfoyle.
When far upon the raging sea,
While thunder roll and lightnings flee,
When sweeping storm the ship assail,
I'll bless the music of the gal!
And when I'm listning a' the while
I'll think on Kate o' Aberfoyle.
Katy, my only love, farewell;
What pangs my faith heart shall feel,
While straying through the Indian groves,
Weeping our waes, our early love :
I'll ne'er mair see my native soil,
Farewell, farewell, sweet Aberfoyle.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse