Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish songs > Volume 1

211
O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows ;
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose.
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red,
Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
O, hush thee, my baby I The time soon will come,
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ;
Then hush thee, my darling ; take rest while you may ;
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
OCH HEY, JOHNNIE LAD.
TANNAHILL.
OcH hey, Johnnie lad,
Ye're no sae kind's ye sou'd hae been
Och hey, Johnnie lad.
Ye didna keep your tryst yestreen.
I waited lang beside the wood,
Sae wae and weary a' my lane ;
Och hey, Johnnie lad,
It was a waefu' nicht yestreen !
I lookit by the whinny knowe,
I lookit by the firs sae green ;
I lookit ower the spunkie howe,
And aye I thocht ye wad hae been.
The ne'er a supper cross'd my craig,
The ne'er a sleep has closed my een :
Och hey, Johnnie lad,
Ye're no sae kind's ye sou'd hae been.
Gin ye were waitin' by the wood,
It's I was waitin' by the thorn ;
I thocht it was the place we set.
And waited maist till dawnin' morn.