Air - " It's no very lang sinsyne, that I had a lad o' mine ain." The simmer gaed heavily bye, 'Twas a wearisome simmer tae me, My sang aye sunk down tae a sigh, An' the sigh was, fair Helen! for thee! My lassie, I kenn'd was awa', An' my heart was awa' wi' my dear ; My lassie's sae bonny an' braw, I had mony a rival tae fear. When lovers gaed bye tae the glen, Wi' heart-winnin' smiles in their een, I wish'd for my lassie in vain, Tae join in the sports on the green; For the sports on the green gi'e me pain, As pairless I stray by mysel', An' my note never mixt in the strain, That rang thro' the echoin' dell. Now autumn has gane o'er the plain, The flowers ha'e fa'n down on the lea, My lassie's returned back again, But my lassie is distant tae me. I bow, an' advance wi' a smile, She retreats wi' an air o' disdain, Yet knows very well, a' the while, That her scornin's the cause o' my pain. Has Helen forsaken her love? Has Helen forgotten the vow She made as we stray'd in the grove, An' gart me believe she was true? I flee, then, fause maid ! frae thy snare; Those charms on my rival bestow ; A lassie sae fickle an' fair Can be but a jilt o' a jo.
The Village of Chryston - North Lanarkshire - Scotland
Walter Watson
The Chryston Poet