Wild drives the bitter northern blast

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Melody - "Fingal's Lamentation"
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Robert Tannahill, fragment of an old Scottish ballad

Wild drives the bitter northern blast,
Fierce whirling wide the crispy snaw,
Young lassie, turn your wand'ring steps,
For e'ening's gloom begins to fa':
I'll take ye to my father's ha',
And shield you from the wintry air,
For, wand'ring through the drifting snaw,
I fear ye'll sink to rise nae mair."

2. "Ah! gentle lady, airt my way
Across this langsome, lonely moor,
For he wha's dearest to my heart,
Now waits me on the western shore:
With morn he spreads his outward sail,
This night I vow'd to meet him there,
To take ae secret fond fareweel,
We maybe part to meet nae mair."

3. "Dear lassie, turn--'twill be your dead,
The deary waste lies far and wide;
Abide till morn, and then ye'll ha'e
My father's herd-boy for your guide."
"No, lady,--no! I maun na' turn,
Impatient Love now chides my stay;
Yon rising moon, with kindly beam,
Will light me on my weary way."

4. - ?

Ah! Donald, wherefore bounds thy heart !
Why beams with joy thy wishful e'e?
Yon's but thy true love's fleeting form,
Thy true love mair thou'lt never see.
Deep in the hollow glen she lies,
Amang the snaw, beneath the tree,
She soundly sleeps in death's cauld arms,
A victim to her love for thee.

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