Habbie’s frae hame.
[James Turner.]
By the side o' yon cleugh, whare the burnie rins still,
A lassie sat sighing and spinning her lane:
"O gin the waes o' my heart wad lie still!
There'll never be peace till our Habbie comes hame.
"As my wheel it gaes round, and my lint tap I spread,
Lint that I mean for bibs to my bairn;
The warp shall be blue and the waft shall be red,
An' how braw we'll be a' when our Habbie comes hame.
"That morning he left us our cock never crew,
Our grey clocking hen she gaed kecking her lane;
The gowk frae the craft never cried cuckoo,
That wearyfu' morning our Habbie left hame.
"When the wind blaws loud and tirls our strae,
An' a' our house sides are dreeping wi' rain,
An' ilka burn rows frae the bank to the brae,
I weep for our Habbie who rows i' the main.
"When the wars are owre, and quiet is the sea,
On board the Culloden our Hab will come hame;
My slumbers will then be as sweet as the Dee,
An' how blythe we'll be a' when our Habbie comes hame."