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Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

(353) Page 335 - Scottish emigrant

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(353) Page 335 - Scottish emigrant
335
" The hind shall forsake,
On the mountain the doe,
The stream of the fountain
Shall cease for to flow ;
Ben Lomond shall bend
His high brow to the sea,
Ere I take to my bower
Any flower, love, but thee.
She's taken her mantle,
He's taken his plaid ;
He coft her a ring,
And he made her his bride :
They're far o'er yon hills,
To spend their happy days.
And range the woody glens
'Mang the Lomond braes.
THE SCOTTISH EMIGRANT.
AIR — " Flowers o' the forest."
On board of a bark, in the deepest emotion,
An emigrant sigh'd at the close of the day ;
Fast fell his tears as he gazed on the ocean,
That danced in the beams o' the sun's parting ray.
Land of my childhood, now that we sever.
Ne'er to mine eyes was thy woodlands so fair,
Mild as the flow of my own native river,
Scotia, my hame, will I ne'er see ye mair !

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