The Shepherd Boy.
[Evan M'Coll.—Tune, "Ye banks an' braes o' bonnie Doon."]
The shepherd boy was far away,—
His heart was heavy, and his song
Was often pour'd at close of day,
While cheer'd him thus the rustic throng:—
"The maidens here are fair and free,
And sweet our heather braes do bloom;"
Yet sadly, sweetly still sung he—
"Oh! this is not my native home."
"O balmy is the breath of morn,
And bright the sun's declining ray,
Sweet is the sound of mountain burn,
And light the skylark's varied lay;
Gay are the lambkins on the lea,
And rich our mountain flowers' purfume;"
Yet sadly, sweetly still sung he—
"Oh! this is not my native home."