Three old Scottish songs (1)/Jockey's Lamentation

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JOCKEY‘S LAMENTATION.

Jockey met with Jenny fair,
⁠Betwixt the dawning of the day;
And Jockey now is full of care,
⁠For Jenny stole his heart away;
Altho‘ she promis‘d to be true.
⁠Yet she, alas, has prov'd unkind,
The which does make poor Jockey rue,
⁠For Jenny's fickle as the wind:
And ‘tis o‘er the hills and far away,
⁠‘Tis o'er the hills and far away,
⁠‘Tis o‘er the hills and far away,
The wind has blow'd my plaid away,

Jockey was a bonny lad,
⁠As e'er was born in Scotland fair
But now poor Jockey is run mad,
⁠For Jenny causes his despair;
Jockey was a piper's son,
⁠And fell in love while he was young,
But all the tunes that he could play
⁠Was, o'er the hills and far away
⁠And 'tis o‘er, &c.

⁠When first I saw my Jenny's face,
She did appear with such a grace,

With muckle joy my heart was fill‘d,
But now alas with sorrow kill‘d;
Oh, was she but as true as fair,
‘Twould put an end to my despair;
But oh! alas this is unkind,
Which sore does terrify my mind,
⁠‘Tis o‘er, &c.
⁠That Jenny stole my heart away.

⁠Did she but feel the dismal woe,
That for her sake I undergo,
She surely then would grant relief,
And put an end to all my grief;
But oh, she is as false as fair,
Which causes all my sad despiar:
She triumphs in a proud disdain,
And takes delight to see my pain.
⁠‘Tis o'er, &c.

⁠Hard was my hap to fall in love,
With one that does so faithless prove,
Hard was my fate to court the maid,
That has my constant heart betray’d;
A thousand times to me she swore,
She would be true for evermore,
But oh, alas, with grief I say,
She's stole my heart and run away.
⁠'Tis o'er, &c.

⁠Good, gentle Cupid, take my part,
And pierce this false one to the heart,
That she may once but feel the woe
That I for her do undergo:
Oh make her feel this raging pain,
That for her love I do sustain;
She sure would then more gentle be,
And soon repent her cruelty.
⁠'Tis o'er, &c.

⁠I now must wander for her sake,
Since that she will no pity take;
Into the woods and shady grove,
And bid adieu to my false love;
Since she is false whom I adore,
I ne’er will trust a women more,
From all their charms I'll fly away,
And on my pipe will sweetly play.
⁠’Tis o'er, &c.

⁠There by myself I'll sing and say,
’Tis o'er the hills and far away,
That my poor heart is gone astray,
Which makes me grieve both night and day,
Farewel, farewel, thou cruel she,
I fear that I shall die for thee;

But if I live this vow I'll make,
To love no other for your sake.
⁠'Tis o'er the Hills and far away,
⁠'Tis o'er the hills and far away,
⁠'Tis o'er the hills and far away,
⁠The wind has blow'd my plaid away,