| |
| O, STOPNA, bonnie bird, that strain; | |
| Frae hopeless love itsel’ it flows; | |
| Sweet bird, O, warble it again, | |
| Thou ’st touched the string o’ a’ my woes: | |
| O, lull me with it to repose, | 5 |
| I ’ll dream of her who ’s far away, | |
| And fancy, as my eyelids close, | |
| Will meet the maid of Oronsey. | |
| |
| Couldst thou but learn frae me my grief, | |
| Sweet bird, thou ’dst leave thy native grove, | 10 |
| And fly to bring my soul relief, | |
| To where my warmest wishes rove; | |
| Soft as the cooings of the dove, | |
| Thou ’dst sing thy sweetest, saddest lay, | |
| And melt to pity and to love | 15 |
| The bonny maid of Oronsey. | |
| |
| Well may I sigh and sairly weep, | |
| The song sad recollections bring; | |
| O, fly across the roaring deep, | |
| And to my maiden sweetly sing; | 20 |
| ’T will to her faithless bosom fling | |
| Remembrance of a sacred day; | |
| But feeble is thy wee bit wing, | |
| And far ’s the isle of Oronsey. | |
| |
| Then, bonny bird, wi’ mony a tear | 25 |
| I ’ll mourn beside this hoary thorn, | |
| And thou wilt find me sitting here, | |
| Ere thou canst hail the dawn o’ morn; | |
| Then high on airy pinions borne, | |
| Thou ’lt chant a sang o’ love an’ wae, | 30 |
| An’ soothe me, weeping at the scorn | |
| Of the sweet maid of Oronsey. | |
| |
| And when around my weary head, | |
| Soft pillowed where my fathers lie, | |
| Death shall eternal poppies spread, | 35 |
| An’ close for aye my tearfu’ eye; | |
| Perched on some bonnie branch on high, | |
| Thou ’lt sing thy sweetest roundelay, | |
| And soothe my “spirit, passing by” | |
| To meet the maid of Oronsey. | 40 |
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