SONG 60. Banks of the Dee

'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing, And sweetly the nightingale sung from the tree, Ar the foot of a rock, where the river was flowing, I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee. Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on, thou sweet river; Thy banks' purest streams shall be dear to me ever; For there I first gain'd the affection and favour Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee.

But now he's gone from me, and left me thus mourning, To quell the proud en'my, for valiant is he; And ah! there's no hope of his speedy returning, To wander again on the banks of the Dee. He's gone, hapless youth! o'er the rude roaring billows; The kindest and sweetest of all the gay fellows; And left me to stray among the once loved willows, The loneliest maid on the banks of the Dee.

But time and my pray'rs may perhaps yet restore him; Blest peace may return my dear shepherd to me, And when he returns, with care I'll watch o'er him; He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee. The Dee then shall flow, all its beauties displaying; The lambs on its banks shall again be seen playing, While I with my Jamie are carelesly straying, And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.