OH, WHERE, TELL ME WHERE?
“Oh, where, tell me
where, is your Highland laddie gone?
Oh, where, tell me where,
is your Highland laddie gone?”
“He ’s gone, with
streaming banners, where noble deeds are done,
And my sad heart will tremble
till he come safely home.
He ’s gone, with streaming
banners, where noble deeds are done,
And my sad heart will tremble
till he come safely home.”
“Oh, where, tell me
where, did your Highland laddie stay?
Oh, where, tell me where,
did your Highland laddie stay?”
“He dwelt beneath the
holly-trees, beside the rapid Spey,
And many a blessing follow’d
him, the day he went away.
He dwelt beneath the holly-trees,
beside the rapid Spey,
And many a blessing follow’d
him, the day he went away.”
“Oh, what, tell me what,
does your Highland laddie wear?
Oh, what, tell me what, does
your Highland laddie wear?”
“A bonnet with a lofty
plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly
breast that yet shall wear a star;
A bonnet with a lofty plume,
the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly
breast that yet shall wear a star.”
“Suppose, ah, suppose,
that some cruel, cruel wound,
Should pierce your Highland
laddie, and all your hopes confound!”
“The pipe would play
a cheering march, the banners round him fly;
The spirit of a Highland chief
would lighten in his eye;
The pipe would play a cheering
march, the banners round him fly,
And for his king and country
dear with pleasure he would die!”
“But I will hope to
see him yet, in Scotland’s bonny bounds;
But I will hope to see him
yet, in Scotland’s bonny bounds.
His native land of liberty
shall nurse his glorious wounds,
While, wide through all our
Highland hills, his warlike name resounds;
His native land of liberty
shall nurse his glorious wounds,
While, wide through all our
Highland hills, his warlike name resounds.”
OH, MY LOVE, LEAVE ME NOT![20]
AIR—"Bealach na Gharraidh."
Oh, my love, leave me not!
Oh, my love, leave me not!
Oh, my love, leave me not!
Lonely and weary.
Could you but stay a while,
And my fond fears beguile,
I yet once more could smile,
Lightsome and
cheery.
Night, with her darkest shroud,
Tempests that roar aloud,
Thunders that burst the cloud,
Why should I fear
ye?
Till the sad hour we part,
Fear cannot make me start;
Grief cannot break my heart
Whilst thou art
near me.
Should you forsake my sight,
Day would to me be night;
Sad, I would shun its light,
Heartless and
weary.