Jockie’s far awa’.
[Walter Watson.]
Now simmer decks the fields wi' flow'rs,
The woods wi' leaves so green;
And little birds around their bow'rs,
In harmony convene:
The cuckoo flies from tree to tree,
Whilst saft the zephyrs blaw;
But what are a' thae joys to me,
When Jockie'a far awa'?
When Jockie's far awa' at sea,
When Jockie's far awa',
But what are a' thae joys to me,
When Jockie's far awa'?
Last May morn how sweet to see
The little lambkins play,
Whilst my dear lad, alang wi' me,
Did kindly walk this way.
On yon green bank wild flow'rs he pou'd,
To busk my bosom braw;
Sweet, sweet he talk'd, and aft he vow'd,
But now he's far awa'.
But now, &c.
O gentle peace return again,
Bring Jockie to my arms,
Frae dangers on the raging main,
Frae cruel war's alarms,
Gin e'er we meet, nae mair we'll part
As lang's we've breath to draw;
Nae mair I'll sing wi' aching heart,
My Jockie's far awa'.
My Jockie's, &c.