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LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT.
I'm sittin' on the stile, Mary,
Where we sat side by side
When first you were my bride;
And the lark sang loud and high;
And the love-light in your eye.
The place is little changed, Mary;
The day is bright as then;
And the corn is green again;
And your breath, warm on my cheek;
You never more will speak.
'Tis but a step down yonder lane,
And the little church stands near-
I see the spire from here.
my step might break your restFor I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends ;
But, oh! they love the better still
The few our Father sends!
My blessing and my pride:
Since my poor Mary died.
Yours was the good brave heart, Mary,
That still kept hoping on,
And my arm's young strength was gone; There was comfort ever on your lip,
And the kind look on your browI bless you, Mary, for that same,
Though you cannot hear me now.
I thank you for the patient smile
When your heart was fit to breakWhen the hunger-pain was gnawin' there, And you hid it for
my Í bless you for the pleasant word,
When your heart was sad and soreOh! I'm thankful you are gone, Mary,
Where grief can't reach you more!
I'm biddin' you a long farewell,
My Mary-kind and true!
In the land I'm goin' to;
And the sun shines always there
But I'll not forget old Ireland,
Were it fifty times as fair !
my heart will travel back again To the place where Mary lies ! And I'll think I see the little stile
Where we sat side by side,
JOHN ANDERSON MY JO.
When we were first acquent,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
Your locks are like the snaw;
John Anderson my jo.
We clamb the hill thegither,
We've had wi' ane anither:
And hand in hand we'll go,
John Anderson my jo.
AULD ROBIN GRAY.
WHEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye come
hame, When a' the world to sleep are gane, The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e, While my gudeman lies sound by me.
Young Jamie lo'ed me weel and sought me for his
bride, But saving a crown, he had naething else beside To make the crown a pound, my Jamie gaed to sea, And the crown and the pound were baith for me. He hadna been gane a week but only twa, When my father brake his arm, and our cow was
stown awa'; My mither she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray cam' a-courting me.
My father couldna work—and my mither couldna
spin; I toiled day and night, but their bread I couldna win; Auld Rob maintained them baith, and wi' tears in
his e'e, Said, “ Jennie, for their sakes, will you no marry me?"
My heart it said na; I looked for Jamie back;
wrack; The ship it was a wrack-why didna Jennie dee? Oh, why do I live to sav. Oh, wae's me!