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MUSrCAL AND LITERARY MISCELLANY.
LOGAN WATER.
273
Slow, with expression.
Words hy Burns.
O La - gan sweetly didst thou glide, Tha day I was my Wil- lie's bride, And
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years sin - svne hae
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o'er us run, Lilce Lo
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to the summer sun.
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DOW thy flow'ry banks ap - pear. Like drumlie win - ter
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dark ^i«|drear Whils
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dear lad maun
face his faes. Far, far frae
and Logan braes.
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O Logan, sweetly didst thou glide.
That day I was my "Willie's bride;
And years sinsyne hae o'er us run,
Like Logan to the summer sun :
But now thy flowery banks appear
Like drumlie winter, dark and drear,
"While my dear lad maun face his faes.
Far, far frae me and Logan braes.
Again the merry month of May
Has made our hills and -valleys oay ;
The birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
The bees hum round the breathing flowers:
Blythe morning lifts his rosy eye,
And evening tears are tears of joy :
My Boul, delightless, a' survejs,
"While "Willie's far frae Logan braes.
"Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush,
Amang her nestlings sits the thrush ;
Her faithfu' mate will share her toil.
Or wi' his sang her care beguile :
But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here,
Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer,
Pass widow'd nights and joyless days.
While "W' illie's far frae Logan braes.
O, wae upon you, men o' state,
That brethren rouse to deadly hate!
As ye make many a fond heart mourn,
Sae may it on your heads return I
How can your flinty hearts enjoy
The widow's tears, the orphan's cry ?
But soon may peace bring happy days,
And Willie hame to Logan braea!
No. 72.