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Broadside ballad entitled 'The Wanderer'



O cease a while ye winds to blow,

O cease ye murmuring streams to flow!
Be still ! be hush'd every rude noise !

I think I hear my true love's voice.

Here is the brook, the rock, the tree,-
Hark ! hark a voice ! don't you think' tis

he ?
It is not ho, and the night's coming on,

0 where's my lovely wanderer gone.

Loudly I call'd to male him hear,
It is I that call - my love - my dear !
Where can he rove ? where can he stray?

I fear my love has lost his way !

The moon behind a cloud is lost,
In every crag appears a ghost !
The lightning's gleam if seen no more,
Whilst the loud awful thunders roar.

M'Intosh, Printer, 96 King Street Calton.

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Probable date published: 1849-   shelfmark: RB.m.169(209)
Broadside ballad entitled 'The Wanderer'
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