Alexander Boswell - The Lass O' Isla

'Ah, Mary, sweetest maid, farewell!
My hopes are flown, for a 's to wreck;
Heaven guard you, love, and heal your heart,
Though mine, alas, alas! maun break.'

'Dearest lad, what ills betide?
Is Willie to his love untrue?
Engaged the morn to be his bride,
Ah! hae ye, hae ye, ta'en the rue?'

'Ye canna wear a ragged gown,
Or beggar wed wi' nought ava;
My kye are drown'd, my house is down,
My last sheep lies aneath the snaw.'

'Tell na me o' storm or flood,
Or sheep a' smoor'd ayont the hill;
For Willie's sake I Willie lo'ed,
Though poor, ye are my Willie still.'

'Ye canna thole the wind and rain,
Or wander friendless far frae hame;
Cheer, cheer your heart, some other swain
Will soon blot out lost Willie's name.'

'I 'll tak my bundle in my hand,
An' wipe the dew-drop frae my e'e;
I 'll wander wi' ye ower the land;
I 'll venture wi' ye ower the sea.'

'Forgi'e me, love, 'twas all a snare,
My flocks are safe, we needna part;
I 'd forfeit them and ten times mair
To clasp thee, Mary, to my heart.'

'How could ye wi' my feelings sport,
Or doubt a heart sae warm and true?
I maist could wish ye mischief for 't,
But canna wish ought ill to you.'

Alexander Boswell

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