Donald is no more.
O'er the braes and o'er the burn
Jessy strays baith night and morn,
Watching for her love's return
From a distant shore.
But, alas! she looks in vain;
He will ne'er return again;
For in battle he was slain—
Donald is no more.
For in battle, &c.
Hope awhile her bosom cheers—
Soothes her doubts, allays her fears—
Still her cheek is bathed in tears—
Still her heart is sore.
Vainly does she, night and morn,
Pace the dreary braes and burn,
Watching for her love's return—
Donald is no more.
For in battle, &c.