auld rob morris（1/1）

auld rob morris

there's auld rob morris that wons in yon glen,

he's the king o' gude fellows, and wale o' auld men;

he has gowd in his coffers, he has owsen and kine,

and ae bonie lass, his dautie and mine.

she's fresh as the morning, the fairest in may;

she's sweet as the ev'ning amang the new hay;

as blythe and as artless as the lambs on the lea,

and dear to my heart as the light to my e'e.

but oh! she's an heiress, auld robin's a laird,

and my daddie has nought but a cot-house and yard;

a wooer like me maunna hope toe speed,

the wounds i must hide that will soon be my dead.

the dayes to me, but delight brings me nane;

the nightes to me, but my rest it is gane;

i wander my lane like a night-troubled ghaist,

and i sigh as my heart it wad burst in my breast.

o had she but been of a lower degree,

i then might hae hop'd she wad smil'd upon me!

o how past descriving had then been my bliss,

as now my distraction nae words can express.