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(399) next ››› Page 391Page 391Johnie's gray breeks

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A lass that was laden'd with care,
Sat heavily under yon thorn ;
I listen'd a while for to hear,
When thns she "began for to mourn.
Whene'er my dear shepherd was there,
The birds did melodiously sing,
And cold nipping winter did wear
A face that resembled the spring.
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
Sae merry as we twa ha'e been,
My heart it is like for to break
When I think on the days we ha'e seen.
Our flocks feeding close by his side,
He gently pressing my hand,
I view'd the wide world in its pride,
And laugh'd at the pomp of command !
My dear, he would oft to me say,
What makes you hard-hearted to me ?
Oh ! why do you thus turn away,
From him who is dying for thee ?
But now he is far from my sight,
Perhaps a deceiver may prove,
Which makes me lament day and night,
That ever I granted my love.
At eve, when the rest of the folk
Are merrily seated to spin,
I set myself under an oak,
And heavily sighed for him.
An interesting anecdote connected with this song is given
in the Abbe Morellet's Memoirs: 'Franklin was very fond of
Scotch songs ; he recollected, he said, the strong and agreeable
impression which they had made on him. He related to us that,
while travelling in America, he found himself beyond the
Alleghany Mountains, in the house of a Scotchman, living remote

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