Tune, Tweed Side


COMPANIONS, with me take your walk,
And see where my sweetheart is gane;
I'll tell you how freely we've talk'd,
Which is the strong cause of my pain:
Her temper was mild as the breeze,
That fans to make cool the hot day;
Her manner me always did please;
Her presence drove dull hours away.


Her heart ne'er was puff'd up with pride;
True friendship's abode was her breast:
Such sweetness in her did reside,
That I with her charms was full blest.
Her goodness she freely bestow'd,
On such as deserved her care:
Her bosom did heave when it glow'd
For me while I sank in despair.


How oft from my Lover's fine eyes,
Did tears of affection run down?
How heavy each day were my sighs,
When all hopes of marriage were gone?
How oft in the twilight, at Ev'n,
Delighted, we walk'd o'er the plain,
Where birds sweetly sang on the green,
And rocks echo'd back the sweet strain?


No more shall the beautiful Spring
By me be compar'd with her charms,
Nor songsters me please with their song;
Since my Love is fled from my arms,
The seasons return now in vain,
Since my Love is fled to the shore;
Each scene serves to heighten my pain,
That us'd to give pleasure before.


All friends now attend to my strain,
And pity my cruel distress;
I now must lament through the plain;
My sorrows I can not express!
All day I'm tormented with care!
With grief I am sullen and sad!
I am rack'd with the pangs of despair!
All night when I toss in my bed!


False woman, in ages to come
Thy falsehood detested shall be;
No truth in thy heart there is found;
Thou'rt stain'd with abhorr'd perjury!
But patience my heart shall sustain,
Those pangs I am doom'd to endure;
I'll mount and I'll ride o'er the plain,
And try to forget the false wh-re.


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