The Maid of Dunmore.
A captive maid pined in the tow'r of Dunmore,
Full high was its gate, closely barr'd was the door;
Her sighs unregarded, her prison unknown.
Far from kinsmen and lover she languished alone.
But a little bird sang at this fair captives grate,
And seem'd as it chirrup'd, to soften her fate.
Ah! Flora, fair Flora,—ah! Flora Macdonald!
Ah! Flora, the maid of Dunmore—
The maid of Dunmore, the maid of Dunmore,
Ah; weep for the maid, the maid of Dumnore!
The maid tied a note to this little bird's neck,
And pointed to home, like a far distant speck.
O'er land and o'er water away the bird flew,
Sought kinsman and lover;—the courier they knew;
But soon a brave knight burst the prison-house door,
And rescued his bride from the tow'r of Dunmore.
Ah! Flora, fair Flora,—ah! Flora Macdonald!
Ah! Flora, the maid of Dunmore—
The maid of Dunmore, the maid of Dunmore,
Ah! joy to the maid, the maid of Dumnore!